Happenstance
by LemonStar
Summary: ..Marcus/Hermione.. Hermione wants to be swept off her feet. She wants her own true love story. She just never expected to have one with Marcus Flint, of all people.
1. The Wedding Reception

_A/N: Please read and review for me. It would mean the world to me. Thank you!_

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Chapter One – The Wedding Reception

CHAPTER SONG: NARA by E.S. Posthumus

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Adrian Pucey was a well-known womanizer throughout the wizarding world.

He was a hopeless flirt – promising women the world so he could get what he wanted – and he was a heartbreaker, crushing girls' spirits when they realized that they wouldn't be the one who could change his ways. And despite knowing all of this about him, women flocked to him. He was devilishly handsome and all it took was a smile and few compliments from him and women found themselves to be unable to resist his charm when he focused it on them.

And he was even worse when he was drunk – hence why Hermione Granger was hiding from him in the upstairs loo of the Weasley house.

For some reason, he had set his sights on her that evening and he was being relentless in his pursuit. The wedding reception had been going on for hours now outside in the backyard and though it was the wedding of her best friend and she was one of the bridesmaids, she couldn't go down there just yet. Firewhiskey and champagne had been flowing freely since dinner and since Hermione wasn't too keen on drinking, she had stuck with water and one mug of pumpkin juice. Adrian had taken advantage of the free alcohol however and now, he was practically intolerable, stalking her around the back yard, trying to get her alone with him. Hermione didn't even like him when he was sober so he was an absolute nightmare to her when hew as under the influence.

The wedding of Harry Potter and Pansy Parkinson had been a small affair in the backyard of the Burrow and there had been no expense spared that day. Both the Burrow and the backyard were decorated in a sea of flowers and tables of endless food. Everywhere Hermione had looked, there had been music and laughter and people dancing and eating. Everyone was so happy and that in turn, made her smile. Harry was now married and Hermione wondered if she had ever seen him smile as much as he was that day in all of the years she had known him.

Ron and his wife, Luna, had been on the dance floor for most of the night even though Ron hated to dance. He usually wound up doing things he generally hated if doing it made his wife happy. Ginny and Draco had been sitting at their table, eating and exchanging whispers and secret smiles as his hand continuously went to touch her still-flat stomach. Only Hermione knew of the couple's pregnancy so far though they were making it fairly obvious to anyone who merely paid attention to the couple's revealing actions.

There was so much cheer and celebration and Hermione hated that she couldn't enjoy it with her friends and family. She hated that she had to hole herself up in the bathroom with hopes that Adrian would either pass out in a drunken stupor or he would find some other poor girl to rub up against; a girl who would enjoy that sort of attention from him.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror hanging above the sink. Her hair, usually a wild tangent of long dark brown waves and curls, had been styled into a stylish up do being held with so many bobby pins, that her scalp was beginning to hurt. Pansy and Ginny had tried to use magic like they had done with their hair but Hermione's had always been stubborn. The bridesmaid dress was a dark green satin form-fitting gown with yellow gold trim; a mix of Gryffindor and Slytherin colors. It was beautiful and even though it clung to her body and had a more drastic v-neck than she was comfortable with, Hermione couldn't help but feel beautiful in it. Everyone told her what a beautiful young woman she had grown into with her pale porcelain skin, deep brown eyes and freckled nose.

She had shed her baby fat for a thin frame and she had received more than her fair attention from the opposite sex. None of the men had interested her however. Her last serious relationship had been with Viktor and she had nearly married him despite not loving him. Since him, there hadn't been anyone. She was so immersed with her work and her family and friends, that she didn't have time for a relationship – certainly not the kind of relationship she craved. Her friends probably never would have suspected their bookworm friend was a hopeless romantic but Hermione indeed was. She dreamt of having her own love story like Ron, Ginny and Harry had had theirs. She wanted romance. She wanted to be swept off her feet.

With a sigh, she began pulling pins out of her hair, hoping that if she took her time, Adrian would forget about his pursuit of her for the evening. Curl after curl tumbled down her back and her head immediately began to feel relief. She knew she couldn't stay in the loo for the rest of the night. Harry was her best friend and it would be incredibly rude for her to keep staying away hidden like this. This was a happy night for all of them and Hermione deserved to celebrate with everyone downstairs.

Hermione Granger, worker for the Ministry, one of the smartest witches to ever come out of Hogwarts, hero of the war and best friends of Harry Potter, did not hide from anyone – especially a person like Adrian Pucey.

The last bobby pin was yanked from her hair with an air of determination and leaving them in a pile on the sink counter, Hermione turned and grabbing the doorknob, swung it open, gasping in surprise when she nearly collided with a firm muscular chest in the hallway in front of her. Her hand flew to her chest and for a moment, she thought that Adrian had found her but tilting her head up to look at who she had almost walked into, she immediately relaxed.

Marcus Flint. He had been a few years ahead of her at Hogwarts but he was one of those Slytherins who's reputation preceded him. And from what she knew of all of those stories she had heard of him, he was nothing more than a violent stupid oaf. She had no idea what had come of him after he had finished school and she was surprised that she even knew who he was. The closest she had ever come to him was when she had been with Harry and the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams would get into it. But even then, Hermione's focus had always been on retaliating against Draco and the insults he had flown at her. She never noticed Marcus Flint.

But then the war came and everyone chose sides. Surprisingly to almost everyone, many former Slytherins chose to fight _with_ Harry instead of against. Draco, Marcus, Adrian, Pansy and Blaise Zabini all helped immensely in fighting during the war and old school rivalries were no longer of any significance. Though they ran in the same circles, Marcus and Hermione still didn't know one another. They knew of one another of course but other than that, they were still very much strangers.

Their eyes locked together and Hermione nearly took a step back from the intensity suddenly of it all. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and continued staring at him. He had grown quite handsome actually since he had left school. His black hair was in slight disarray, almost in chaotic yet seemingly controlled spikes. He had used magical charms to fix his teeth years ago and though he wasn't as handsome as some of the other men she had ever seen, to her, he was the quite handsome. He certainly had the tall, dark, mysterious and slightly dangerous persona down pat.

His eyes continued to be fixated so intently on her, she was frozen in her place. No one had ever looked at that before and she was completely hypnotized. She didn't know why his eyes were set on her like that but she found that she liked it.

"I was sent to come find you," Marcus explained in a deep, masculine voice that sent a shiver down her spine. "Apparently, Ron is trying to sneak a piece of wedding cake before Harry and Pansy cut it and Luna said that you were the only one who knew how to even attempt to stop him."

She couldn't help but laugh, stepping into the hallway. "Separating Ron from food is a skill that I have honed to perfection over the years. Luna has only been married to him for a year. She's still in training," she explained to him and she was surprised when he smiled. Marcus Flint did not seem like the man who at all smiled no matter what the situation. He looked good when he smiled. "And how did you get stuck with the detail of seeking me out?" She asked, tilting her head up to look at him, leaning back against the wall behind her.

He was wearing black dress pants and a white button down shirt with a dark green tie hanging loosely around his neck. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and she couldn't help but notice how muscular and in shape this man in front of her was. What was the matter with her all of a sudden? One would think she had never been in the company of a man before. Perhaps Fred or George had spiked her water or the pumpkin juice. It seemed to be the only explanation at the moment.

"True, I was a chaser in Quidditch but I can seek something out if I have to," he informed her and she smiled, a faint blushing breaking out across her cheeks.

She knew him to work for the Ministry as well in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She, herself, worked in the Department of International Magical Cooperation and had seen him several times at Ministry events but they had never spoken at those.

"What were you doing hiding in the loo anyway?" He asked.

She laughed slightly, almost embarrassed. "I was actually hiding from your best friend. He is very much a determined hunter tonight."

Marcus laughed, scratching the back of his head. "That's probably the nicest way I have ever heard a woman refer to the git as." She laughed as well, tucking strands o hair behind her ears, still looking at him. "If you want, I will gladly tell him to sod off and leave you alone for the night."

"Don't think I can take care of myself?" Hermione questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I know you can. I was just trying to be a gentleman," he explained to her with a smirk and she smiled at him, shaking her head slightly. "I've known Adrian since birth. I can handle him so if he gets out of hand, just let me know."

"I will run to you like a damsel in distress if the situation calls for it," she promised him with mock-sincerity and he smiled at her. Her heart twisted slightly in her chest and she wondered once more what was wrong with her. This wasn't her usual behavior in the least – especially a man like Marcus Flint. Of course, she didn't know him in the least to even begin to categorize him.

She turned her head towards the open window at the end of the hallway when she heard music floating up from the backyard. She smiled and pushed herself off the wall, moving down the hall. It was dusk outside, the sun setting lower behind the horizon, rays of purple, red and orange streaking across the sky and the first of the stars appearing. Candles were being lit on the tables and suspended in the air above the dance floor and Hermione leaned out the window, smiling as she looked down over the wedding reception.

"I love this song," Hermione said with a smile, pulling her head back through the open window and taking a step back into the hallway. She turned and looked at Marcus to see that he was staring at her. She blushed again and wondered if he looked at everyone with such passion in his eyes.

"Do you want to dance with me?" He asked her unexpectedly, pulling his hand out from his pants pocket and extending it towards her.

Hermione smiled and reached out, placing her hand in his, his fingers encasing around her and gently pulling her closer to him. Still grasping her hand, his other lightly slid onto her hip and she rested her other free hand on his shoulder. He was much taller than her and he looked down at her as she looked up at him. Both smiled and began swaying back and forth to the music pouring softly through the window. His hand grew a bit more bold and slid around her hip to rest on the small of her back. Hermione smiled up at him to let him know that it was alright and her hand crept across his shoulder to the back of his neck, her fingers beginning to toy with the short black hairs. He pulled her a bit closer to him, their hips touching and Hermione nearly gasped at the jolt she felt through her body from the contact.

"You're a good dancer," she told him softly, her head still tilted upwards to look at him, a faint smile across her lips. Hadn't she just been dreaming of something romantic happening to her? To Hermione, this was an extremely romantic moment and she never would have thought that Marcus Flint would be the one sharing it with her. She almost laughed at the lunacy of it.

"Surprised?"

She shrugged. "A little. Men your size usually don't possess the grace to dance."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Marcus said and she couldn't have agreed more.

Hermione smiled as he pulled her even closer to his body, their chests now pressed together and the jolts shocked through her body once more like electricity. "This is so much better than staying in the loo," she told him and he laughed.


	2. The Lunch Date

_I don't usually like to beg but... -gets down on knees- please, please, please review. Love it? Hate it? Let me know. Please read and review. Thank you so much. And Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. You have no idea how much it means to me. I know people don't like this story but thank you for taking the time to let me know what you think._

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Chapter Two – The Lunch Date

Every Wednesday, taking a break from their respected jobs and other commitments of the day, Hermione would meet with Ginny, Luna and Pansy for an hour-lunch and girl time at the small café located near the Quidditch shop in Diagon Alley. They sat at the same table each week – if the weather permitted – located outside on the patio deck with the large dark blue umbrella blocking out the sun shining above. With Pansy off enjoying her honeymoon with Harry however, that week's lunch was a trio instead of the usual quartet.

Although she was only two months pregnant and had not begun to show her condition yet – something she was most grateful for since she and Draco had yet to tell her family the news – Ginny was already eating as if she was about to give birth any day now. The healer had told her that the first trimester was the most important, and fragile, for a baby's health and Ginny was going to take no chances. Besides, eating anything in sight was a dream come true for most girls.

She hadn't told anyone except for Hermione and finally Luna, though only after making her sister-in-law swear a thousand times that she would not divulge Ron of it yet. The last thing she needed was any of her brothers finding out before her parents. She knew her parents, her mother especially, were going to be most disappointed with news of the pregnancy when they were told. They were still having difficulty with Ginny living with Draco before marriage and now, she was about to have a child out of wedlock with him. Draco wanted them to get at least engaged before they told Arthur and Molly but Ginny refused to accept a ring from him only because there was now a baby involved. They had been perfectly happy without marriage and they didn't need to get married now just because of propriety.

Hermione was barely listening as Luna and Ginny talked about their jobs – Luna working at her father's paper, _The Quibbler_, and Ginny at St. Mungo's – and she instead read the menu over though she had it completely memorized and already knew what she was going to be getting. She had felt so distracted lately and she wasn't entirely sure why. She had been having such a hard time concentrating on anything lately.

For some reason entirely unknown to her, she seemed incapable of stopping the bombardment of thoughts she had been having concerning none other than Marcus Flint. Ever since Harry and Pansy's wedding a few days earlier, and their impromptu dance in the hallway that still sent Hermione's heart fluttering whenever she thought of it, she seemed to constantly be finding her thoughts drifting back to the man who was very much a mystery, and stranger, to her.

It confused her; these thoughts she was having. She wasn't the type to sit at her desk in her office while at work and slip off into daydreams – each one growing increasingly erotic – when she was supposed to be writing reports or going to department meetings. But ever since that blasted dance and he had smiled at her and had put his hands on her – innocent touches but touches nonetheless – her imagination had been flying off uncontrollably.

Sometimes, the daydreams were nothing more than dancing with him again or him showing up to her office and asking her out on a date. Other times, however, she had daydreams that left her flushed and panting; images of him shoving her against that hallway and shoving her dress up around her waist. Even when she was with Viktor, she never had the thoughts that she seemed to constantly be having of Marcus lately.

She didn't understand it. There was no reason whatsoever for her to be thinking about Marcus Flint, of all people. So they had talked and shared a few laughs. So he had danced with her. He had just been polite. She may not have known him at all but she did seem to know that a man like Marcus would not go for someone like her. Though what houses they had been in during school, Marcus, as well as Blaise and even Draco despite being with Ginny for three years, seemed to have a certain air of superiority surrounding them. After spending seven years in the house of Slytherin, there was still that over-confidence, Pureblood better than anyone else attitude. She knew that Marcus would never allow himself to be with a Gryffindor witch with Muggle parents like her.

There was a difference between being friends with someone with a completely different background and dating that someone who was completely different. Of course, Hermione reminded herself, she and Marcus were not friends. They simply knew one another because they were friends with the same crowd of people. She supposed that she was just assuming things but she knew that the Flint family – one of the wealthiest and oldest in the wizarding world – would be less than thrilled if Marcus ever brought home a girl like her.

Hermione nearly sighed and shook her head with scolding exasperation.

As if Marcus was going to bring her anywhere! They didn't even know each other!

She couldn't believe how silly she was being. She felt like an insipid first-year with her first crush on a boy. She spent one hour with a man and suddenly, she was envisioning sleeping with him and introducing one another to their parents. She wanted to mentally slap herself. What on the earth was the matter with her lately? She really needed to stop reading those blasted romance novels before going to bed every night. They were embedding themselves into her head and driving her mad.

"Marcus!" Ginny suddenly exclaimed, standing up from her chair and throwing her arms around her close friend upon seeing him as he headed from the Quidditch shop where he had been spending his own lunch hour.

Hermione's head jolted up from the menu upon hearing Ginny say his name and as if she had been expecting someone other than him, she saw Marcus Flint – the man of her every recent daydream – patting Ginny on the back as she hugged. He didn't look as if he was comfortable with physical contact but then Hermione instantly thought of their dance. He had been loose and perfectly relaxed in that situation.

When she began dating Draco, Ginny became close with his friends as they did hers, spending countless hours together at the Leaky Cauldron or the Three Broomsticks as they drank butter beer and fire whiskey late into the night. They had all been surprised at how all well they got along together considering that the Gryffindors, and the Weasley family, before the war, had been the target of torment from most of the Slytherins during their school years spent at Hogwarts. Though Hermione had always been invited to their nights spent in the taverns, she had never gone – mainly due to her dislike of drinking – but perhaps, she would start showing up now. Of course, with Ginny pregnant now, she wondered if the meetings between friends would continue or if they would meet somewhere else now.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked, pulling back, smiling up at him as she tucked a wayward strand of red hair behind her ear. "We have an extra chair with Pansy gone. Have lunch with us," she suggested, sitting back down in her own seat.

Marcus opened his mouth to protest since he had already eaten before going to the Quidditch shop for a new pair of gloves but then, his eyes fell upon Hermione and all polite excuses to leave left his mind. She was staring at him as well, those dark brown eyes of her set on him and he nearly smiled. It was a warm afternoon outside and all three young women had shed their robes to eat and enjoy the Indian summer that seemed to have befallen the city. That day, her hair was scooped up in a ponytail, showing off the pale delicate arch of her neck, and she wore a simple black modest dress with a white cardigan sweater.

That past Saturday during the wedding wasn't the first time Marcus Flint noticed how beautiful Hermione Granger was. After all, it wasn't as if he was blind. He also wasn't blind to the looks other men gave her. She, of course, never noticed that but he did. And for some reason, it had always pissed the hell out of him. He knew he had no right to be as possessive of her as he sometimes felt. Hell. He had barely said two words to her before Harry and Pansy's wedding reception but that didn't mean he had never noticed her before.

He knew that he would never be able to have anything with her though. She wasn't like Ginny or Luna or Pansy. She was a… mudblood. He absolutely despised that word now and would never say it – feeling guilty enough when he even thought it – but that's what she was. Marcus could never be with her – no matter how hot she made him feel whenever she was around. She wasn't pure and unfortunately, dating a girl who was anything but was completely out of the question for the Flint family.

"Hey, Luna," Marcus said, sitting down in the empty chair at the table that just happened to be next to Hermione. "Ron came to visit me and Blaise at work today and conveniently left a magazine behind in our office-"

Luna rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. "Ron has no faith in me. I know exactly what I am getting him for our anniversary so he should just calm down." She paused, her usual far-off dreamy expression crossing her face again. "Did he say what he was getting me?"

Marcus shook his head. "I didn't ask." He didn't even flinch as Ginny leaned over and hit him in the arm. "Was I supposed to?"

"Of course you were supposed to," Ginny informed him matter-of-factly. "Women always have to know what presents they're getting before the event."

He smirked and then looked over at Hermione, who seemed quite immersed in reading the open menu in her hands. "And what about you? Do you like knowing ahead of time or do you prefer surprises?"

Both Ginny and Luna began to laugh.

"Hermione? Surprises?" Ginny smiled. "This girl has the next few years of her life planned out in advance. She's the most non-spontaneous person you'll ever meet."

Hermione frowned, straightening her back a bit, almost defensively. "Thank you for that, Ginny." She couldn't exactly argue though seeing as how it was nothing but the truth. Hermione couldn't stand surprises, feeling that she had already had too many in her life to handle any more.

"Oh, she didn't mean anything by it, Hermione," Luna said, smiling softly, patting her hand gently almost sympathetically as Ginny opened her mouth to apologize and Hermione nodded her head.

Marcus shifted in his seat, still looking at her. "It's not a big deal. I'm not a fan of surprises either," he informed her and Hermione finally looked at him for the first time since he had sat down.

In her eyes, he could have sworn that he saw a look of gratefulness directed from her towards him for speaking up but he couldn't be certain. Figuring out women and their several thousand different looks had never been a strong point of Marcus'.

He had been thinking about her a lot lately – ever since their impromptu dance in the upstairs hallway of the Weasley burrow, a dance that even surprised the hell out of him despite it being his initial suggestion. He wasn't sure what had happened since dancing was one of his least favorite activities, falling right behind sticking red hot pokers in his eyes. But the way she had been smiling and the way she had looked and when she had said that she had loved the song that was playing, Marcus acted on his first reaction and his first reaction was to get her into his arms and as quickly as he possibly could.

As they danced, Marcus had been amazed at how well they seemed to fit together despite their differences in both size and body type. She was so small and petite and almost fragile when she had been pressed against him, her hand in his and her other on the back of his neck. His stomach had pulled as if a string had been controlling it like a puppet as he felt her soft fingers hesitantly resting on his skin and he had actually wished that the song would never end so their dance wouldn't. Her hips brushing against his as they swayed, her eyes locked with his, a permanent smile on her face. Marcus had seen a lot of beautiful women in his life but in that moment, Hermione had trumped them all.

After lunch, the four stood up from their table, Marcus insisting that he pay the bill for all of them despite the complaints and protests from the three women.

"I guess we should get back," Ginny sighed, displeased that the lunch hour always seemed to fly by much too quickly.

"I actually have to go to Sussex today to interview a gnome for one of the articles I am writing. Hopefully, I'll finish the invitations for the anniversary party tonight when I get home and you'll get them tomorrow," Luna said and then after hugging Hermione and Ginny goodbye and giving Marcus a smile, she apparated with a pop.

"Alright. I should go too," Ginny said, still reluctant to leave. "Thank you very much for lunch, Marcus. I suppose you are a gentleman underneath that gruff exterior."

"Just don't tell anyone," he said and she laughed before sighing again and then with a reluctant pop much like Luna's, she apparated back to St. Mungo's, leaving Marcus and Hermione alone, standing on the sidewalk outside the café.

He stood in front of her, looking down at her, his heart pounding in his chest. Why was he so bloody nervous around her all of a sudden? Since he stepped from the Quidditch shop and spotted her sitting at the table, he had waited to get an opportunity to be alone with her again. Shit. He had been waiting for this ever since that past Saturday and their dance together. His palms shouldn't have been sweating like they were all of a sudden.

"Walk with me," he suggested though it wasn't exactly a request. It was more of a demand and he stared down at her, letting her know that he wasn't too fond of taking 'no' for an answer.

Hermione hesitated for a moment though she wasn't sure why. She knew the instant he spoke the words, she wanted to agree. They were, after all, both heading back to the Ministry and it only made logical sense that they walk together instead of apparating back like two strangers who hadn't just shared a meal together. Not only that but… she _wanted_ to walk with him. She wanted to spend more time with him than just a simple lunch shared with their friends. She wanted him to herself again. She instantly had visions of him holding her hand as they walked.

"Alright," she finally said with a nod of her head. "Since you asked me so nicely."

He smirked at that as they began walking down the crowded sidewalk back towards the Ministry. "I suppose you can say that I am used to getting what I want without having to necessarily ask for it."

"Charming," Hermione commented dryly and she smiled faintly when he chuckled. She felt an odd sense of accomplishment when he laughed or smiled because of something she had said. Marcus Flint seemed that he only smiled and laughed for a select few and she should feel a sense of honor from getting one out of him.

"So do you eat lunch with Ginny and Luna every day?" He asked, glancing at the amount of space between them – far too much in his opinion.

When he saw a surge of people up ahead, he used it as a chance, or excuse, to move closer to her, his arm brushing against hers as they walked through the throngs of people. If she noticed his blatant move, she didn't act like it and continued looking ahead as they walked.

"No, just every Wednesday," she answered then glanced up at him. "Even though Pansy will be back next week, you're more than welcome to join us again if you wish," she offered though she had a feeling that he wouldn't particularly want to.

"Maybe," he said with an uncommitted shrug. He scratched the back of his head then looked down at her. "What about tomorrow though? Are you free for lunch tomorrow? Want to eat with me?"

Her eyes widened slightly and a blush crept up her neck. She turned her head to look up at him, seeing that his eyes were fixated intently on her and she instantly felt the shiver shoot down her spine that he always seemed to bring from her.

"Are you asking me?" She asked, almost smiling like some silly school girl.

He smirked. "Take note because it doesn't happen often. So what do you say? Want to eat lunch with me tomorrow? Just the two of us?" If he hadn't been clear earlier about his intentions of turning their possible lunch into a date, that certainly announced it to her in a neon sign, flashing lights sort of way.

Hermione paused in her walking and he went to stand in front of her, putting a hand over her elbow and gently guiding her to stand next to the wall of the building they were walking past so they wouldn't be blocking the sidewalk. She tilted her head up and he grinned upon seeing the slight smile on her face. Damn, she was beautiful. Why was he the only one clambering to eat a meal with her? Surely, she had had other invites before?

Marcus nearly scowled. That was _not_ a thought he wanted to be having. Hermione was going to eat lunch with him and only him. Every other git can just go sod off.

As if she had been able to read his thoughts, she hesitantly reached out and rested a hand on his arm of the hand that was still holding her elbow, their eyes locked together.

"I would love to," she smiled.


	3. The Start

_I LOVE this chapter and all of the insight into Marcus. Please, please, please review. It really motivates me to write and update as quickly as I can so please let me know what you think. Thank you so much in advance._

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Chapter Three – The Start

The instant Marcus apparated into his flat after a day's work, he stripped himself of his black robe and yanked the tie he had to wear every day off, tossing both offending garments onto the overstuffed armchair located near the fireplace. He ran a hand through his black hair, mussing it up, before stalking into the kitchen, ripping drawers and cabinets open, looking for something to eat for dinner. He found nothing, which only managed to piss him off further.

He had not had a good day and all he wanted to do was get piss drunk and pass out in bed in hopes of forgetting everything that had happened over the past few hours.

Michael Flint, his father, had made the unfortunate decision of visiting his only child that day while Marcus had been at work and it was no secret that father and son didn't particularly get along with one another. Normally, the two men could hardly stand to be in the same room together without beginning a fight within the first five minutes. Marcus knew that he had always been a disappointment to his father.

Michael hated that he wasn't more intelligent, more ambitious. He hated that Marcus had fought on – in his opinion – the wrong side during the second war and he hated that the only thing his son ever amounted to was being nothing more than a glorified police officer like some godforsaken muggle in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Nothing Marcus ever did was good enough for his father but for some reason, he kept trying. He didn't know why he tried so hard. It wasn't as if he loved his father, or even really liked him, but at the same time, he craved the respect and approval that he had never gotten growing up.

Marcus didn't know why his father had to drop in on him unannounced like he had that day. Both Flint men knew that nothing ever good could possibly come out of it.

The only bright spot of his day had been meeting Hermione for lunch. Every day – except for Wednesdays when she ate with Ginny, Luna and Pansy – Marcus and her now spent their lunch hour together. He looked forward to it everyday and he hated it when they had to return to work when the hour was over. He liked talking with her. Actually, she did most of the talking. He simply sat there and listened. She tried to get him to talk to her about himself but most things about himself, Marcus didn't want to divulge to her. Those four hours a week he spent with her helped him get through all of the other shit he had to deal with.

He wished he could invite her over to his flat that night. He needed her. For some reason, without him even realizing it, Hermione Granger had become his calm.

The more time he spent with her, the more he got to know her and found out things about her, the more he hated that he couldn't start something with her. Marcus had never been a big fan of relationships. He preferred shagging random witches and never seeing them again once he was done with them. But with Hermione, well, she was different. If he didn't give a shit about what his father thought or about his family's so-called legacy, he would be with her in a second. She would be the girl he would try to have something with.

They had all changed since Hogwarts. Marcus knew he had changed. He supposed fighting in a war could do that to a person. He wasn't the stupid oaf people assumed him to be like he had been when he was just a kid but he let people keep thinking that. It normally didn't bother him in the least. People could have their opinions and go sod off with them as far as he was concerned. Hermione had admitted to him during one of their shared lunches that she, herself, had thought that perhaps he was the same person he had seemed to be back when they had all still been in school but she quickly realized her mistake in thinking that. He had changed along with the rest of them and after everything they had all been through, and fought for, it was nearly impossible to ever go back and be the same person. For some reason, still unclear to him, it was important to Marcus that Hermione not see him as he was but see him as the person he was now.

Having made his mind up and knowing that he had to see her after the day he had had, Marcus quickly scrawled a note, asking her if she was free and would be able to come over to his flat for a few hours though he was not sure what they would do and sent his owl out to seek her answer out. He didn't know what it was that made him want to see her as desperately as he did. He didn't know what sort of spell she had over him but it seemed as if he had fallen quite willingly under her magic. All he knew was that he needed to see Hermione Granger that night and he hoped she would come and make his day just a little bit better.

Marcus didn't know why he insisted on torturing himself like this. The more time he spent with Hermione, the stronger the urge he had to just lean over and kiss her hard and demanding grew. She had no idea how desirable she was or how much he was attracted to her. She was the type of rare girl to be completely unaware of her beauty which surprised him. Hermione was a highly observant person and yet, she never noticed the looks of men as they passed, glancing at her appreciatively before scurrying away upon seeing Marcus glare menacingly at them.

He knew Hermione wasn't his but… he _hated_ when other men looked at her. Damn it. She was his. She belonged to him whether she knew that little piece of information or not. He wanted her. He wanted her sometimes so much, he almost began to shake. And it happened at the oddest times too. They had been at lunch together a few days earlier and she was discussing how she was still crusading for the equal and fair treatment of house elves and though he was listening to every word she said, Marcus suddenly had the vision of throwing her onto the table they sat at, shoving her dress around her hips and burying himself inside of her surely tight and wet accepting body.

He could never have her though – no matter how many arousing thoughts he had of her. As if his father didn't hate him enough, all Marcus had to do was get involved with a girl like Hermione Granger for the shit to really hit the fan, figuratively speaking of course. The Flint family had never been one to be hard up for money and a trust had been set up for Marcus before he was even born – while his mother was still pregnant with him. When he got married, he would receive an undisclosed amount of money and though even he wasn't sure of the exact number, Marcus knew that he and his wife would have more than enough money for the rest of their lives. It was his parents' decision however as to whether Marcus would get the money. He could chose his bride but his parents would decide her worth. Until he married, he received a weekly allowance from his family's funds but it still would have been much nicer if he had more money than he knew what to do with.

Not that he wanted to marry Hermione Granger. He liked her, yes. He was attracted to her and couldn't help but fantasize of how her body felt under his lying in his bed, But he didn't even know her. He was slowly getting there, and everything he learned about her fascinated him, but his family would disown him if he ever got involved with her. She was a …. mudblood.

The knock on the front door of his flat came much sooner than he expected and he found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror hanging in the hallway. He stopped himself as he tried to make his hair look somewhat presentable and gave his image a disgusted scowl before going to answer as she knocked again.

The instant he opened the door however, his scowl disappeared. Hermione stood on the small landing outside the door of his flat and the smile she gave him such a happy smile, it felt almost as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. She looked beautiful and he was suddenly very grateful that he had owled her to come over that evening. He needed her company more than he cared to ever admit.

"Thank you for coming," he said, stepping aside so she could pass through the door.

Hermione had never been to his flat before and he did a quick assessment of the condition of the room around them to make sure that it wasn't too messy as she entered, her shoulder brushing against his chest as she passed. He closed the door then quickly moved to help her remove her cloak. She looked at him from over her shoulder, smiling her thanks, and he smiled in return. She really did have a nice smile – one that he particularly liked.

"I didn't know if you would come or not," Marcus admitted to her, hanging her cloak up then ushering her into the living room.

"Why wouldn't I come?" She asked him, sitting down on one side of the couch as he sat down next to her on the other.

He shrugged. "You don't seem to be the type of girl to go to a bloke's flat at night."

She smiled again, almost laughing, as she shook her head. "No, I'm definitely not. But… well, we are friends. It's not as if you invited me over in hopes of seduction."

She paused, looking at him as if she expected him to tell her that that had in fact been his hidden agenda behind asking her to come, and her cheeks flushed a light red. If only she knew just how often Marcus actually thought of what it would be to actually be inside of her.

"Why _did_ you invite me over?" Hermione asked him, turning slightly on the couch so she was facing him more.

His smile, amused from her embarrassed blush at the thought of a seduction afoot, slowly fell from his face and he leaned back in the couch, setting his eyes on the fireplace across the room from them. He didn't want to divulge all of the details to her so instead, he merely shrugged. "I just had a bad day."

"With work?" She inquired, leaning back as well, crossing one leg over the other.

Marcus' eyes instantly went to the her pale white legs exposed from the black skirt she was wearing. She always wore skirts to work and in the process, wound up torturing him daily. Just once, he wanted to lean over and place his hand on her knee, or calf… or perhaps her thigh. He wanted to feel her skin and see for himself whether or not it was as soft as it appeared to be.

"With my father. But I don't want to talk about it," he told her quickly before she could open her mouth and ask him something else.

She stared at him for a moment before nodding her in head in silent agreement and took to looking around the room. He supposed it was the typical bachelor flat – Quidditch magazines and books in disorganized stacks around the room, the furniture dark and mutual colors, no photographs or too many personal effects exposed. He wondered what her flat was like. Probably prim and perfect. Hermione always had to have order in her life, he had found out and had teased her for bordering on obsessive compulsive. For her, everything had to be lined up in a little perfect row while Marcus just let things lie where they fell.

Just yet another countless way in which the two were different from one another.

"This almost reminds me of…" she cleared her throat almost nervously. "Viktor's."

Marcus felt himself scowl. That wasn't exactly something he wanted to discuss either. Being part of the same social circles, he knew that Hermione had been engaged to Viktor Krum for some time. And now being her friend, he knew from her that Hermione felt it was an engagement that never should have happened. He had been her first – and only for that matter – serious boyfriend and she had managed to convince herself that she loved him because of it. Marcus was just silently grateful that she had broken their engagement off before she did something stupid like marry the Bulgarian git. He didn't even know Viktor but he knew he didn't like him.

"Of course, he had a lot more pictures around. Mainly of himself," Hermione added with a roll of her eyes and Marcus smirked.

He looked around the room himself as well. "I don't really like having my picture taken," he said with a shrug.

"Me neither," she admitted. "Whenever I see myself in a photograph, I am convinced I look like I did when I was twelve with the bushy hair and buck teeth."

He laughed. "Trust me. You look nothing like you do when you were twelve."

Hermione stared at him and her cheeks bloomed with a dark red blush again. She smiled faintly. "Do you mean that?" She asked him softly and he turned, setting his dark eyes on her. He didn't need to say anything. The dark intensity swirling around in his orbs fixated on her more than enough made his sincerity clear to her and Hermione felt a rake of shivers bolt down her spine like a fork of lightening. "You are too," she suddenly blurted out and then wished herself to dissolve into a puddle of water and evaporate. Why did she insist on sounding as if she was a butcher of the English language whenever she was around him?

Marcus looked at her, a quizzical expression now on his face as he tried to decipher what exactly she had meant.

"You don't look anything like you used to," she clarified and he nodded his head, almost laughing but decided to save her further embarrassment.

"Do you want to get something to eat?" He asked, standing up. "I don't really have anything here but we could go out."

Hermione tilted her head up to look at him. He seemed upset, antsy. Angry. She wondered what had happened between him and his dad that day to make him so. Not that Marcus was ever in a chipper happy mood but he seemed in a more foul mood than usual. She wanted to ask him if he was alright but she didn't want to pry. He had specifically said that he didn't want to talk about his father so she wouldn't mention it a single time that evening.

She stood up, still keeping her head tilted so her eyes could remain locked with his. They were standing so close together, her chest nearly grazed his and both could feel the heat from their bodies. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. He slowly lowered his head towards hers and she stretched her neck slightly, offering her lips to his. Her stomach tingled with anticipation and her eyes fluttered closed.

Marcus kept his eyes open and he stared at her. His face was now so close to hers, he could count the freckles on the bridge of her nose if he wanted to. He sighed heavily. He couldn't kiss her. As much as he – and apparently she as well – wanted to. He took a step back, not looking at her, rubbing the back of his neck. The room suddenly felt too hot, too claustrophobic.

"What's wrong, Marcus?" Hermione asked, frowning faintly, staring at him. Marcus shook his head and didn't answer. He didn't trust himself to. "You're right," she whispered and he finally looked at her again. She seemed embarrassed. "We're friends. We shouldn't…" she straightened her shoulders with an air of determination now surrounding her. "We're friends. Or we are becoming friends and we shouldn't ruin that."

He stared at her for a moment and then smirked. Jesus. If only she knew the kind of thoughts he was having about her even then. Most didn't think these things about their so-called friends. He shook his head slightly and had to clench his hands together to keep from reaching out to her, pulling her into his arms and not letting her go anytime soon. He had no idea what the hell was the matter with him all of a sudden. He didn't know why Hermione could arouse him like this. He had never felt this before and it was confusing the hell out of him. He didn't even know if he liked feeling like this.

"Do you want to get something to eat?" He asked her again because honestly, he had no idea what else he could say to her. He really just wanted to throw her down on the couch and kiss the hell out of her.

Hermione looked at him closely for a moment, wishing she knew what he was thinking, before nodding her head. "That sounds wonderful," she forced a smile.

Her heart was still hammering in her chest. She had wanted him to kiss her. She had wanted to know what it felt to have his lips touching hers. She had been kissed before – by Viktor and by Ron once during the holidays of their seventh year when both had accidentally stood under the mistletoe at the same time and the rest of the Gryffindor house had insisted on it – but she had never actually been _kissed_ before. The kind of kiss that made her toes curl and her knees shake. She looked at Marcus and wondered if he could do that to, and for, her.

When he retrieved her cloak once again and helped her slip it onto her shoulders, his fingers brushed against her and she nearly shivered. Oh yes. She could only imagine how drastic his kisses would affect her. If they ever did kiss – which was quickly becoming her most frequent wish nowadays.


	4. The Anniversary Party

_A/N: Now that "Strange and Beautiful" is complete, I will be focusing on this story. I wish more people would review but I understand that Marcus/Hermione is not exactly a popular couple. Please read and review and let me know what you think. I love to hear what everyone thinks. Thank you very much in advance. _

* * *

Chapter Four – The Anniversary Party

"**I** have no idea what to get Ron and Luna for their anniversary party," Hermione admitted as she and Marcus walked down Diagon Alley Tuesday during their lunch hour. "I know what I would get Ron and Luna individually but I don't have any idea what I would get them together."

"Why do you have to get them a shared gift?" Marcus asked. He didn't know what to do with his hands, feeling that if he left them out, he would wind up touching her and if he started touching her, he probably wouldn't be able to bring himself to stop.

"Shouldn't you get a couple for their anniversary a shared gift?" She asked with a slight frown marring her face.

"What do you get your parents when it's their anniversary?" Marcus inquired curiously, walking closer to her than necessary, he knew, but the roads were crowded that day and he used it to his advantage.

He kept thinking about that almost kiss that they had shared in his flat a few days earlier. His lips had been so close to hers, he had been able to count the freckles on the bridge of her nose and feel the warm breath slipping out from between her lips. He thought of how beautiful she was, her eyes closed, her head lifted with anticipation. He still didn't know why he hadn't kissed her. She had wanted him to and he had wanted to kiss her more than anything. He just wanted to wrap his arms around her, haul her body to his and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.

He wondered why Hermione wanted him to kiss her. Despite their lunches together, she still didn't know anything about him. She didn't know about his father, mother, or stepmother. She didn't know about his NEWT year and why he really had to repeat it. She didn't know what he liked or disliked. She didn't know him and maybe, subconsciously, he wanted to keep it that way. He was a listener, not a talker. Maybe he didn't want her to know who he was because maybe that would lead her to not being a part of his life anymore. Not that she was a part of it now. They were simply spending time together. Nothing more. They had the same friends and worked at the ministry. It wasn't that terribly odd that they finally get to know one another. But Marcus was watching it very closely as to what he did tell her about himself.

Perhaps he knew that guys like him did not belong with girls like Hermione Granger.

"I usually just take them to their favorite restaurant," Hermione answered, looking at the shops as they passed, hoping one would call out to her but she remained at a loss. She sometimes hated buying gifts for people even if those people were two of her closest friends.

"Come on," Marcus said suddenly, taking hold of her hand without thinking. "There's a sale at the Quidditch shop."

Hermione tried to suppress a sigh, instead putting her focus onto how wonderful her small hand fit into Marcus' larger one. His hands were rough and warm and Hermione looked down, smiling, almost blushing. She wondered if he even realized that he was holding her hand and didn't seem to be letting it go anytime soon.

"I'm not really a fan of Quidditch," Hermione informed him as they entered the shop.

"I know, which makes you the daftest witch I know," Marcus said with a smirk which turned into an actual smile when she laughed. "This will only take a minute. I promise. I just want to look at the new brooms."

Hermione followed without protest, mainly because he was still holding her hand and she hoped that he didn't let go of it.

As she watched him look at the rows of new brooms in stock, a look of fascination across his face that she had never seen before, she smiled faintly. Boys and their Quidditch.

"Why didn't you go on to play it professionally? You were a very good player, weren't you?" She asked.

Marcus smirked, looking at the new line of replicate Oakshaft 79 brooms that the shop had just received. "I was set to go play with the Heidelberg Harriers after school but then I had to repeat one of my years." He paused and Hermione watched him, waiting patiently for him to continue, knowing that there was more to be said. She had learned with Marcus though that it was best not to rush him. "And then when the war came… Quidditch didn't seem very important to me anymore."

"But then how did you come to work at the Ministry?" She asked, hoping that she wasn't pushing it and he wouldn't clam up like he often was known for doing.

He shrugged and then began towards the broom service cleaning kits, her hand still encased in his. "After the war, nothing seemed like it mattered much. After everything that happened…" he trailed off and Hermione understood perfectly. She herself had felt absolutely lost after the defeat of Voldemort. "You won't believe me but I was out for a walk in Muggle London."

Hermione smiled. "You willingly put yourself amongst muggles? Why, Marcus Flint."

He smirked at her. "I know. I think I'm really growing as a person," he joked and she laughed, squeezing his hand, urging him to continue. "I was walking past this one place and there was a sign in the window… _Lost in Life? Come take our Career Aptitude Test_."

"And you did?" Hermione asked, truly surprised. That did not at all seem like something Marcus would do.

He nodded. "I did and after I was finished answering all of the questions, the woman informed me that I would make an excellent bobby. But instead of joining their police force, I joined ours."

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Hermione said softly more to herself, an amazed small smile across her face. Though she still didn't know much about him, what she did learn about Marcus Flint always seemed to surprise and fascinate her.

They left the store, the fall sun warm on their faces and her hand warm still tucked away in his. He guided her down the sidewalk and they began walking again though she wasn't sure where they should go next. She still had no idea what to get Luna and Ron for their anniversary and instead, her mind was quickly becoming preoccupied with the tall handsome man walking with her.

"What about you?" Marcus asked. "How did Hermione Granger come to work for the Department of International Magical Cooperation?"

She smiled. "It was the one I pulled out of a hat." At his perplexed look, she laughed slightly. "After the war, Harry, Ron and myself went away on a bit of a holiday. None of us knew what to do – especially Harry. We had spent so much of our lives at that point trying to defeat Voldemort and when he died… we didn't know what else there was for us to do." She took a deep breath. "So we were in Ireland for two months and there, we got so many owls from the Ministry and it seemed as if every division wanted us to come work for them. The trio of war heroes and all that nonsense. Harry wanted nothing more to do with any of that so he decided to pursue Quidditch and Ron, as he put it, wanted to kick a little more arse so he decided to become an auror."

"And you?" Marcus asked.

"I couldn't decide for the life of me so Ron and Harry wrote down every job opportunity that was offered and put them in a hat. And the Department of International Magical Cooperation was what I pulled out."

He smirked, shaking his head slightly. "It surprises me that you would leave your future up to some sort of game of chance like that."

She shrugged. "I didn't know what else to do with myself and it all worked out for the best because I love what I do. I love dealing with wizards from all over the world and working together with them. Do you like what you do?"

He didn't answer and she tilted her head to look up at him but it did not look as if he would answer her anytime soon. She suppressed a sigh. She supposed their conversation was done. Marcus wasn't much of a talker and preferred to listen to her. Normally, Hermione didn't mind talking so much because she always had something to say but it was extremely difficult to get to know a person what said person refused to say anything about himself.

They arrived at the small café they usually ate lunch at and Marcus held open the door for her, finally releasing her hand as he did so. She wished he hadn't and she wondered what it was about his touch that made her crave more of it. She had never felt fully comfortable whenever Viktor tried to be affectionate with her, especially out in a public setting like Diagon Alley, but with Marcus, she wanted him to touch her and her body tingled with anticipation of when the next one would be.

After they found a table in the back corner and they had ordered their food and drinks, Hermione looked at him sitting across from her, tilting her head slightly as if scrutinizing him. Age really had made him quite handsome. He was tall, muscular, so much larger than her, with his dark hair and eyes. There was a scar over his left eyebrow from one of the battles and she always felt the strange urge to run her fingertips over it and feel it. She wasn't sure exactly how he would react to her doing so. Marcus Flint was still such a mystery to her and Hermione was determined to solve him. She was attracted to him – very much so and she wondered why seeing as how he was so different from every other man in her life.

"Would you like to come to Ron and Luna's anniversary party with me this Saturday?" Hermione asked suddenly though she had no idea where the question had come from.

Marcus seemed equally surprised by the question and stared at her for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak then shut it again, his eyes never leaving her face. "I don't know if that would be the greatest idea, Hermione," he finally spoke and Hermione felt her entire body deflate with rejection. She didn't show that though and simply nodded her head, leaning back slightly away from the table. Marcus knew he had to explain himself. "It's not that I don't want to go with you. It's just that you know how our friends can be. We show up together and they get to thinking certain things about us that aren't necessarily true-"

"Marcus?" Hermione interrupted and then when he shut his mouth and looked at her, she managed to give him a small smile. "Please don't explain. I understand perfectly."

And she did. She knew exactly how their friends could be and the instant she showed up with Marcus, even if they claimed that they were just friends, they wouldn't be believed.

Harry and Ron would immediately kick into big-brother mode and be overprotective prats while grilling Marcus about his intentions. Blaise and Draco, though they liked Hermione, would probably yank Marcus aside and ask him why he would want to be with someone like Hermione. Luna would be happy for her, always silently hoping that Hermione would find a man for herself since it had always been quite obvious that Viktor hadn't been the one for her. Ginny was more like her brothers than she would ever care to admit and had a slight tendency to overreact. She would be happy for Hermione as well but she would be happy in such a way that she would probably start planning a wedding for Hermione and Marcus.

Marcus stared at her for a moment. She may have been one of the smartest witches in all of England, possibly the world, but he doubted that she truly understood why he couldn't go with her to the party Saturday. He would be attending, yes, but showing up with Hermione was not something he could do. Even though there would be only his friends at the party, he was worried about word getting back to his father somehow that he was dating Hermione Granger. Not that he was dating her but showing up to a party with her would definitely give that indication. He was actually surprised that no one had seen them together yet and reported back to his father about it. Michael Flint had many associates everywhere and actually, just at the mere thought of his father, Marcus looked around at the café as if he expected him to be there.

He shouldn't have cared what his father thought. He hated his father and therefore, the man's opinions should have meant less than nothing to Marcus. But the truth was, he was his father and Marcus, for some damned unexplainable reason, cared what he thought.

He looked at Hermione across the table. She was beautiful with her pale skin, freckles and tumbles of dark brown wavy hair. Her lips were a pale pink and her bottom one was a bit fuller than her top one. He wanted to just reach over and nibble on the bottom lip, wondering what she would do if he suddenly acted on his urges. She had wanted him to kiss her in his flat and she had let him hold her hand – something he still couldn't understand in the first place other than it had felt damn good – but who knew how she would react if he was just to kiss her in the café?

What the hell was she doing to him? One minute, he feared his father would find out he was spending time with her and then the next, Marcus had visions of throwing her down on the table and having his way with her, not caring who saw. He was giving himself a headache thinking about this. What was it about her that put him all in knots? He wasn't used to feeling this in regards to women. He admitted that he wasn't usually hard up for female companionship. He had more than his fair share of women willing to warm his bed but just because he was sexually experienced, that didn't mean that he knew the first thing about the female mind.

He supposed, if he was so paranoid about his father finding out about his lunches with her, that he could take her to Muggle London for their hour break but he didn't feel entirely comfortable around muggles or particularly like them. He may have changed quite a bit since school and the war but there were still some pureblood mentalities that remained from his childhood and one of those were staying as far away from muggles as possible. He looked at Hermione and wondered what her muggle parents were like.

Marcus had been so busy with his thoughts that he hadn't even realized their food had arrived until he heard Hermione moan softly with pleasure and looking at her, he saw her carefully sip at a spoonful of her soup, swallowing the deliciousness with a smile on her face. He gulped the dryness in his throat as he watched her mouth form a perfect "o" as she blew gently on the steaming hot liquid before lifting her eyes and looking at him as she sipped at it. He shifted in his seat, his trousers suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortably tight.

What the hell was Hermione Granger, of all girls, doing to him?

* * *

**R**on and Luna owned a small cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole, near the Burrow and her father's home. It was packed with friends and family of the couple that Saturday, lanterns strung throughout the trees as well as candles on tables and floating in the air providing more than enough light as the sun began sinking behind the distant trees.

Molly had certainly made more than enough food and it seemed to be never-ending even after everyone had eaten their full. Music was playing and several couples were dancing: Harry and Pansy – their honeymoon glow still fresh on their faces – and Draco and Ginny amongst them. Ginny's dress was made of red flowing material that covered her growing bump and Hermione, Pansy and Luna were all wishing that she would just announce the pregnancy and have it out in the open. Ginny wasn't ready for that yet though and instead, was perfectly content hiding it still for the moment.

Hermione sat at a table with a glass of water and a half-eaten piece of cake on a plate in front of her. She was turned in her chair, facing the dance floor but her eyes focused on a certain person on the other side of all of the swaying couples. Marcus stood next to a table of drinks with Adrian, a bottle of fire whiskey in one of his hands, his other shoved in the front pocket of his jeans. The party that night was extremely casual – Ron's insistence since he hated dressing up – and Marcus that night wore jeans, a black tee-shirt and a green zipped hooded sweatshirt. His black hair was ruffled again, his habit of running his fingers constantly through it evident, and Hermione found herself almost licking her lips at how good he looked but she stopped herself before she made an idiot out of herself.

Ron sat in the chair next to her, eating his fourth piece of cake and watching his best friend without her knowledge. "You should go dance. Or drink."

Hermione smiled, her eyes slowly peeling away from Marcus to look at their other friends as they enjoyed the party. "I'm having fun, Ron. I promise. It is a wonderful party. You and Luna… I am so happy for you both."

"She should receive a medal, really. I mean, what kind of girl puts up with a chap like me for a year and counting?" Ron asked, shoving the rest of the cake in his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him and rubbing his stomach. "I am stuffed."

She laughed, turning her head to look at one of her oldest friends. "You've eaten your weight in food today, Ron. What did you expect?"

He grinned. "My mum is a fantastic cook. You know this." He watched as Hermione, still smiling, looked back to the dance floor, watching the couples together. "We need to find you a bloke, love."

"I'm fine, Ron."

"You haven't been with a guy since that soddin' git," Ron said.

"That's one of the nicest things you've ever called Viktor," Hermione noted.

"Oh, don't worry. There were many other nicknames and they are all filed away in my memory if you prefer I use one of those instead." He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Hermione-"

"What do you think of Marcus?" Hermione asked so suddenly, he blinked at her for a few moments, his mind taking time to catch up to the sudden change of conversation.

He glanced over at the man in question before back at Hermione. "Marcus? I never thought I'd say this but he turned out to be a pretty decent guy." He paused. "Unless of course you're interested in him and in that case, I hate him."

Hermione rolled her eyes, biting back a smile, and stood up. "You and Harry will eventually have to get over these big-brother roles of yours that you have adopted."

"Never," Ron grinned, also standing up and pulled Hermione into a hug, squeezing his arms around her. "Thanks for the Quidditch gloves by the way. I really needed a new pair. And Luna loved her tea cups."

"I had no idea what to get you both," Hermione confessed. "So I thought it would be the smartest thing to just get you an individual gift."

"I loved it much more than the dipping bowls Harry got me," Ron said then frowned, looking over at his other best friend dancing with his new wife. "Remind me to kick his arse later for those." Hermione laughed, shaking her head slightly, and pulled away, standing up on her toes to peck Ron on the cheek. "I should probably go find my wife. I think I left her unattended with Fred and George and that could be… problematic."

Hermione laughed again and Ron left her to go find Luna somewhere in the backyard. She remained standing, crossing her arms over her stomach and tilting her head upwards to look at the twilight sky above her. Twilight was her favorite time of day, the sun setting, the moon rising and the first of the stars appearing in a sky still pink and purple with the last of the rays. Not completely lit and not completely dark. It was always so beautiful to her.

That evening, she wore blue jeans and a yellow sweater over a white tank top with her thick brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was slightly chilled though and she wished that she had worn something thicker. She wished she had something, or _someone_, to help keep her warm. She blushed at the thought. She didn't know why but Marcus Flint had completely bewitched her and it seemed as if in one way or another, she was always thinking about him.

When he had held her hand, her entire body felt as if it was on fire, tingling with the sensation he provoked in her and she had never experienced that with a man before. It had been a delightful feeling to the say the least and she wanted to feel it again – if he was willing, which at the moment, he did not seem to be. Something had happened for he seemed now so cautious around her. He hadn't approached her once that evening except for a polite smile and nod of his head in her direction when he had arrived.

Thursday and Friday, they had gone out to lunch as usual, but he hadn't walked close to her as he had. He didn't brush against her or place his hand on her lower back to guide her through the crowds. And he certainly didn't hold her hand. Hermione didn't know what had happened but he had pulled away from her – more so than he already was.

Marcus Flint was an extremely confusing person. And for some reason completely unknown to her, she couldn't get enough of him.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione tilted her head back down and instantly smiled upon seeing Marcus. "Where have you been tonight?"

"Avoiding you," he answered bluntly and she nodded her head.

"That was slightly obvious," she said. "May I ask why?"

He stared at her for a long moment and took a step towards her, now standing so close to her, she had to tilt her head up to look at him. His eyes burned into hers and she felt that unexplainable shiver down her spine that he always seemed to give her. She didn't expect him to answer. She gasped softly with surprise when he reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin, and Hermione felt her eyes flutter closed at his touch.

"Because you make me feel things," he said softly, his voice sounding more rough than usual at the low volume. "And I have no idea how to deal with any of it."


	5. The Motherly Advice

**_A/N: Please read and review. I have so many people reading and barely anyone reviewing. Is it good? Bad? Please let me know. Thank you. _**

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Chapter Five – The Motherly Advice

"_**B**__ecause you make me feel things. And I have no idea how to deal with any of it."_

Nearly twenty-four hours had passed since he had said that to her and yet, Marcus' words kept repeating in Hermione's mind as if it was on some sort of constant loop. She still didn't know what to make of what he meant by it and she felt just as confused as she had the night before when he had said it to her. She had opened her mouth to ask him what he meant but Marcus only shook his head slightly before he walked off again. He didn't approach her for the remainder of the party and she kept her distance from him as well, knowing that he didn't necessarily want to be around her at that moment.

Why was feeling things such a horrible thing? Listening to Marcus say that, it was as if he had never had a genuine feeling before in his lifetime. She didn't know what his childhood had been like for him. He never, ever, spoke of it or his parents – not even a passing comment to give her some indication as to how it had been for him growing up as party of the Flint family, one of the wealthiest and oldest wizard families in England. They were almost as prestigious in terms of wealth as the Malfoy clan. She knew that Michael Flint had also been a Slytherin when he had attended Hogwarts and Death eater during both Voldemort uprisings but other than that, Hermione knew nothing of the man and Marcus never volunteered the information.

She could only imagine what kind of man Michael Flint was though if Marcus was unsure of how to even act when feelings arose within him. She somehow doubted that the Flint household was a loving warm one to grow up in.

Anytime Hermione was around him, she felt sick to her stomach as if butterflies were constantly fluttering around. She had heard about it and had read countless romance novels in which the heroine always experienced the infamous butterflies whenever the hero was around but Hermione herself had never felt that when around someone. She couldn't believe that she felt such a thing around Marcus Flint of all people but unlike he seemed to be doing, she wasn't fighting it. Feeling something, _anything_, like that excited her.

"Are you _sure _you're alright, dear?" Jane Granger asked her only child as she watched Hermione wash the dirty dishes from the dinner earlier that evening.

Every Sunday evening, Hermione would go to her parents' house for family dinner but she knew that she had been distracted through most of the meal, her thoughts seemingly all devoted to a certain tall dark-haired former Slytherin with a smirk that sent her heart pounding every time he threw one in her direction. Her parents had noticed her distant thoughts and though they had asked her several times if she was alright, she would only nod and smile and say that she was just a bit tired. Her parents knew, of course, that she wasn't just a bit tired and that there was something else going on in their daughter's head but they tried not to push it. When Hermione was ready to talk about it, she would.

"I'm fine, mom. I promise," Hermione swore, almost automatically, as her eyes remained focused out the square window above the sink that overlooked the backyard. Winter was coming and the last remaining leaves on the trees were slowly fluttering down from the branches onto the cold hard ground. "I just keep thinking about something."

Jane took one of the glasses Hermione had just finished washing and began to dry it with her dishtowel. "And what would that be?" She asked curiously. "Anything I can help with?"

She hoped she didn't sound too eager but she couldn't stop herself. Though she loved Hermione more than anything, ever since her daughter received her letter from Hogwarts all those years ago, Jane had felt so detached from her life. Hermione lived in a magical world, literally, and it was a world Jane would never be a part of. Hermione had experienced so many things that Jane would never know about or understand. Sometimes, she had wished for a normal daughter before she instantly scolded herself and felt so guilty and horrible for even thinking such a thing. She loved Hermione to death. She just wished that their relationship could be a little bit more closer than what it become.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip as she continued staring outside but then with a soft sigh, she turned and faced her mother. "How do you know the difference between a simple liking of a person and possibly, someday, far, _far_ into the future, falling in love with that person?"

Jane nearly dropped her glass. Hermione hadn't spoken of men or relationships since her and Viktor and to be perfectly honest, Jane had never quite liked Viktor Krum and had been secretly grateful when their engagement had been broken. She quickly collected herself though and gave Hermione a gentle smile.

"Unfortunately, there is no one universal way that everyone feels in regards to love," Jane said. "Everyone feels and reacts to it differently."

Hermione sighed heavily, not wanting an answer like that. She wanted a concrete, carved in stone type of answer so she would know if what she was feeling was normal or not. She needed to know. She hated not knowing. "Every time I'm around him, I feel sick to my stomach."

"That is a fairly good indication as to how you feel about him," Jane almost laughed.

"He works at the ministry as well and even though we eat lunch together four times a week," Hermione continued. "Whenever I'm not with him, I sometimes find myself counting the hours until I can see him next." She took another deep breath and then shook her head slightly, looking up at the ceiling as if trying to silently talk some sense into herself. "It is completely ridiculous of course. Just the idea of him and me. Together like that."

"Why is it ridiculous?" Jane asked, watching as Hermione began to pace up and down the length of the already small kitchen – a sure sign of her anxiety over the whole situation. Hermione only paced when she was anxious over something or other.

"It just… is. I don't know a single thing about him. He doesn't talk to me. He sits there and listens to me which is all well and good but whenever I ask him a question in regards to himself, he snaps shut like some sort of oyster protecting its precious pearl or something like that." Hermione spun around and looked at her mother. "He isn't like the other men in my life."

"They never are," Jane smiled, almost laughing again in amusement. "What is this man's name?"

"Marcus. He went to Hogwarts as well though he is a few years older than me. He was a Slytherin."

"What is it about him that you like so much?" Jane asked, picking up another glass and beginning to dry that one as Hermione smiled faintly, almost dreamily, leaning against one of the counters. That was a smile Jane had never seen Hermione wear before and her curiosity about this young man was at an all time peaked level.

"He puts his hand on my lower back when we are walking through crowds, to help guide me and keep me close to him," she said. "He always opens the doors for me and pulls my chair out. He makes me laugh which is quite shocking considering how surly and gruff his outward appearance makes him seem to be. He has hair as black as coal and I am convinced he does not own a comb considering the state of disarray it always seems to be in. He is constantly running his fingers through it – the only habit he has that would ever show he has a case of nerves."

Hermione sighed softly, crossing her arms over her stomach and looking down at the kitchen floor. She couldn't keep herself from smiling as she spoke of him but a heavy stone settled in her stomach and she shook her head slightly.

"He will never come to care for me though," she said softly.

"Why on earth not?" Jane frowned. She put the glass she was drying down on the counter and then went to her daughter, standing in front of her, putting her hands on her upper arms. "Hermione, look at you. You are beautiful and brilliant and funny and sweet. This man sounded pretty good but now, it seems that he is just stupid if he doesn't see all of the things you are."

For some unexplainable reason, Hermione felt tears prick her eyes and she took a deep steady breath, hoping to control herself. She was never the type to cry over a man. "We are just friends. Or maybe we're not even that. I don't know what I am to him. A lunch buddy perhaps?"

She lifted her head and looked at her mother. She forced herself to give a small smile, one Jane did not believe to be genuine in the least.

"I like how I feel when I'm with him," Hermione whispered. "I've never felt that before and I… I can't believe that I would feel it with him."

Jane smiled and pulled Hermione into a hug, rubbing her hands up and down her back soothingly. "May I give you some advice?"

"Please."

Jane pulled her head back so she could look into her face. "You have never felt this way about a man before? Not even Viktor?"

"Definitely not," Hermione said with a shake of her head.

"Well, then, dear. Perhaps it would be best if you went to him and just told him how you feel for him. Or show him."

Hermione frowned. "Show him? How would I do that?" She paused and then realization dawned on her. "Oh. I suppose I could kiss him," she said, her cheeks blushing, and Jane laughed softly before hugging her again.

* * *

**A**ll of the lights in his flat were off except for a small lamp on the table next to the sofa in the living room. Marcus sat in the darkness, sitting in the overstuffed armchair and drinking from a bottle of Firewhiskey. It had been a quiet Sunday for him, not doing too much except sleeping in, straightening up his flat a bit, doing laundry after letting it pile in the corner of his bedroom for two weeks, and going to the store for more Firewhiskey. He usually didn't drink as much as he had been lately but he couldn't seem to help himself lately.

His life used to be simple. Work, drink, go to Quidditch matches with Blaise, Draco and Adrian, deal with his father's shit and shag random witches. But then Hermione Granger entered the picture and nothing seemed to be the same for him anymore. He wished that he understood what she was doing to him but he had no idea. One day, everything was as the way it always had been and then the next, he danced with her at a wedding reception and now, he didn't know if he was coming or going.

Anytime he was around her, he felt as if his entire body was in knots and someone had just kicked him in the stomach. He didn't know what she was doing to him. He had never felt like this before around any other woman and he didn't know if he particularly liked feeling like this. He didn't know what to do with himself. One minute, he wanted to throw her down on his bed and bury himself inside of her and the next, he wanted to push her away and get as far from her as he could.

It hurt to be around her. It hurt to touch her because it could never be enough for him. He wanted her – in every imaginable way possible. He just didn't know if he could have her. And if he was lucky enough to get her, he couldn't possibly keep her. Something would surely go wrong whether he did or say something wrong or his family got in the way – and his family would most definitely get in the way. It was up to his father to approve of Marcus' would-be wife in order for Marcus to receive his trust fund and there was no way Michael Flint would approve of Hermione Granger.

Marcus shook his head almost violently, taking a long chug, the alcohol burning his throat as it went down. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he thinking about marriage all of a sudden? He had always hated the idea of marriage and had considered it a necessary evil in order to get the large amounts of money promised to him but now all of a sudden, he was thinking about it as if he actually wanted it. What was she doing to him? He didn't like this. He didn't like the feelings she brought out of him. He didn't like all these thoughts he had now because of her – things he didn't like thinking and had never really thought of before her.

He stood up, rubbing a hand through his hair before knocking his head back and downing the rest of the whiskey, emptying the bottle. His flat felt as if it was shrinking; the walls closing in on him. He had to get out of there. He slid the empty bottle onto the coffee table in front of the couch, joining the other two he had already deposited there, and went to go get his jacket from the front hall closet. It was a cool night and though he didn't know where he was going, he would rather be too hot rather than freezing his arse off. Maybe he should go take a walk and help him clear his head.

But just as he opened the closet door, there was an urgent knock on the front door and though he didn't know how he did, he knew exactly was there on the other side. For a moment, he harbored the notion of pretending that he wasn't there but he knew he couldn't do that. Just knowing that Hermione was on the other side of that door, his body began to ache as it always did whenever her presence was near to him. He closed the closet door and banged his forehead against it. So much for going off and clearing his head for a while before facing her again.

With a deep sigh, he went to the door, opening it and though he knew it would be her, the instant he saw Hermione standing on his front landing, he felt the air leave his lungs in a powerful whoosh. She had always been pretty but now that he knew her like he did, she was absolutely gorgeous to him. She was wearing a green dress that flowed down to her knees and a black button sweater. Her curls were worn down, a few pinned back off her face and all he wanted to do was stare at her for as long as she would let him.

"Hi," she said with hope in her eyes and a shy smile across her lips. "This isn't a bad time, is it?"

Marcus shook his head and stepped aside so she could enter. "Come on in," he said.

Hermione smiled at him and brushed past him, her high heels tapping on the hard wood floor as she stepped into the living room. Her eyes caught sight of the Firewhiskey bottles on the table and she chewed on her lip for a moment before turning around, seeing him standing in the doorjamb between the hallway and the living room, his hands shoved in his blue jean pockets.

"I eat dinner with my parents every Sunday night," Hermione said, her fingers nervously fidgeting in front of her. "And tonight, I was a little distracted and my parents knew immediately that something was wrong with me."

Marcus instantly frowned. "What's wrong?" He took a step towards her but then stopped himself before he got too close to her. He didn't trust himself around her anymore.

Hermione shook her head, smiling. "Nothing. Actually, for the first time in a few weeks, I feel… good." She took her own step towards him, her eyes never leaving his. "My mother gave me some advice and I want to see if it's good advice or not."

"Okay," Marcus said, his frown now turning to one of confusion. "And what was that advice?"

For a moment, she didn't move. She didn't speak or do anything except stare at him. She then pulled her shoulders back with an air of determination and took a deep breath. "I seem to be developing feelings for you that are stronger than friendship."

Marcus stared at her, his body going completely still. He stared at her and could feel his tongue swelling in his mouth. He didn't know what to say. What the hell could he possibly say to that? He tried though and opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. It was absolutely silent in the flat and Hermione cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing in mortification. Marcus watched as she lowered her eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick and Marcus knew that she was about to start crying. Still looking down at the floor, she lifted her finger. "I… I'm sorry for bothering you. I'll just go."

Before she could take even one step however, he stopped her.

Marcus moved quickly. He stalked right up to her and his hands cradled her cheeks, tugging her face towards him, tilting it up so his lips could collide with hers.

Hermione's eyes instantly closed as she felt his mouth over hers, his lips moving over hers, his tongue tracing her bottom lip, coaxing her mouth to open to him. She stepped forward, her chest brushing against his, her hand resting on his hip. She tilted her head slightly to the side and Marcus took the invitation, kissing her deeply, his tongue slowly entering her mouth, touching his.

Hermione pushed herself up on her toes, moaning softly as his tongue massaged hers. She was feeling lightheaded and she had to lie down. But she didn't want Marcus to stop kissing her once she laid down. She wanted him. She wanted all of him. She wanted his weight on top of her, his naked skin touching every inch of hers, and most of all, she wanted their bodies connected. She had the most horrible ache within her and she wanted Marcus inside of her.

He tasted like Firewhiskey that he had been drinking before she came over and she kissed him a bit harder, for some reason, wanting to find out what else she could taste on his lips. She was shocked to feel a moan rise from her throat as Marcus put his hands on her head, his fingers gently tangling in her hair as he guided her lips with his, slowing the kiss down considerably. His mouth moved over hers, his lips caressing hers so slowly and sensually, Hermione felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach.

Now, this was a kiss. She felt her knees begin to shake and she pushed herself up on her toes a bit more, sliding her arms around his neck. For some reason, she was expecting him to pull away from her at any moment but instead, while one hand remained on the back of her head, the other arm wrapped around her waist and he hauled her body tightly against his.

Hermione couldn't believe this was happening. Marcus Flint was kissing her so passionately, yet sweetly, she could actually feel her knees go weak. Her knees had never gone weak from a kiss before. Of course, she had never had a kiss like this before. Viktor had never kissed her like this. Marcus knew what he was doing and Hermione wanted more. She tilted her head to the side, kissing him a bit harder and he ground his hips into hers to show that he liked that. She moaned softly as that felt like a bolt of electricity, shocking her.

"Marcus," she gasped breathlessly as their lips finally separated so both were able to breathe again. Their eyes opened at the same time and they instantly locked together, staring at one another, both breathing heavily, their mouths sharing the same pants of hot air. Her hands slid onto his cheeks and she smiled. "I have been wanting that for a while now."

He smirked and then nodded his head slightly. "Me too," he said before lowering his mouth to hers for another kiss.

Hermione pulled her mouth back though out of his reach and almost laughed at his confused expression. "Should I be taking advantage of you though? From the taste of it, you've been drinking tonight."

Marcus smirked again, his arms tightening around her waist, pressing their bodies together. "And what are you possibly going to do to me that could even be considered taking advantage of me?"

She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew that she had followed her mother's advice and had definitely showed Marcus how she felt about him but now, and though she knew that Jane didn't have this in mind, Hermione wanted to take it further. She was fairly certain that she was falling in love with him and she wanted to show him.

She took a deep breath and gave him a slight smile. "Take me to your bedroom."


	6. The Almost First Time

_AN: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story for me. Next chapter will involve Michael Flint and Marcus' relationship, which will in turn effect Marcus and Hermione. I am thinking I might put this story on hiatus though since only a few people seem to like it. Please review so I know what you think. Thank you. _

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Chapter Six – The Almost First Time

**M**arcus felt as nervous as if he was a fourteen-year-old about to get his first shag as he held onto Hermione's hand and led her down the short hallway towards his bedroom in the back of the flat. Her hand was warm in his and his entire body was still burning from her body just minutes earlier pressed against his and her mouth latched onto his. She had tasted like strawberries and innocence. She was the best thing he had ever tasted and he wanted more. He wanted all of her.

It shocked the hell out of him to say the least when Hermione had told him to take her to his bedroom. And for a second, he was about to refuse to do so. He knew she was a virgin. It must have been male intuition for it definitely had never been a topic of discussion between them but Marcus just knew that she had never had sex before. And he didn't know if he wanted to be her first. He knew how serious women took sex, especially their first time, and with Hermione… he cared for her. Immensely. But he didn't know if he was the right guy to take something so precious from her.

As if sensing his hesitation with the matter, Hermione had kissed him again, her lips moving gently over his, coaxing him into giving into her request and he already found it to be impossible to refuse her. So with a shaky sigh, trying to steady his breathing, he had taken her hand and led her to the bedroom. He was suddenly very grateful that he had done laundry that day and had put fresh sheets on the bed. Hermione deserved as close to perfect a first time as he could give her.

Marcus reluctantly let go of her hand to go and turn on one of the lamps on the nightstand next to the bed and when the bedroom was bathed in a warm soft light, Hermione looked around at her surroundings. It was much like the rest of his apartment – not too many personal effects whatsoever. The bed was large with a headboard and footboard made of strong wood. The sheets were a dark emerald green and the bedspread was black. The furniture: a wardrobe, dresser and two nightstand tables on either side of the bed was made of the same dark wood as the bed and there was a large window across the room, the shades half drawn. His bedroom revealed nothing about him.

Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest, she was certain that even Marcus could hear it, as she crossed the room and slowly sat down in the chair located in the corner. She could feel his eyes watching every single move she made and as she leaned forward to undo the straps of her high heels, she lifted her head and smiled at him. He stood across the room on the other side of the bed, absolutely still as stone, his eyes the only part of him that moved as he watched her. She slipped her shoes off and carefully put them next to the chair before standing up again. Her fingers trembled slightly but she realized that it was not out of fear but rather out of anticipation and she slowly took her sweater off, dropping it onto the chair behind her, leaving her in her sleeveless green dress. How appropriate that her dress be green, she mused to herself. The room was cold and she shivered slightly, goosebumps fleshing across her skin.

She gave him a faint smile and though she wanted to cross her arms over her chest, she left them hanging at her sides. Her Gryffindor bravery had led her that far and she wasn't going to stop now. She watched as his eyes roved up and down her body and she nearly shivered again, but this time, not from the cold air. He still didn't come to her or say anything. He remained on the other side of the bed, staring at her and Hermione began feeling self-conscious. She glanced down at her appearance and then back at him. She knew that Marcus had been with his fair share of women during his sexually active history but until that moment, Hermione had never even considered the possibility that he might actually compare her to those other women.

"I know I'm not pretty," Hermione said, a lump forming in the pit of her stomach as his eyes remained silently fixed on her. "My breasts are too small and my hair-–"

"You're crazy," Marcus interrupted her with a slight growl in his low voice. Hermione snapped her mouth shut, staring at him. She had never heard that tone from him before and it actually sent a thrilled, excited shiver down her spine. "You're…" he trailed off with a shake of his head and Hermione watched as he finally went to her, stalking up to her, his hands grabbing her hips roughly and yanking her towards him. She gasped, her hands gripping his biceps to keep from stumbling. She tilted her head up and looked straight into his eyes. They almost looked black now and Hermione could feel the heat pulsating through his body. "You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are."

Her stomach tightened at his words and her entire body felt as if every nerve it possessed was tingling on end. She urged her neck upwards, her body stretching against the length of his and still staring into his eyes, she pressed her lips against his. Marcus immediately reacted and circled his strong arms around her, his tongue prying her mouth open, demanding entrance. Hermione eagerly granted him admittance and moaned softly as his tongue began tangling with hers, only sparking him on further. They kissed one another almost with a hint of desperation. It was filled with need and want and hunger. Marcus didn't think he could stop kissing her even if his life depended on it.

Hermione's mind was in a complete fog. All she could feel were Marcus' lips on hers, his hands on her body, his own body pressed against her. She had never felt like this before. She had never felt like her heart would burst from her chest or that her entire body could hum with just the sheer joy of being close to him. She squeaked into his mouth with surprise when his arms wound around her waist and picked her up, her feet dangling several inches above the floor.

Hermione put her hands on his cheeks, tilting her head slightly to the side to kiss him deeper. She moaned when his tongue entered her mouth again, gently sucking on hers. He was making her feel beyond incredible. Marcus put one hand out as he slowly turned them around and lowered them down to the bed behind them. The mattress was soft and sank underneath their weight. He couldn't stop touching her. She felt incredible underneath him. Every inch of her body seemed to fit perfectly against his. His hands ran wherever he could touch her, his mouth never lifting from hers. It was as if a floodgate was open and there was no stopping either of them.

She moaned, displeased, when she felt him move away from her and her hands grabbed onto the front of the jumper he was wearing but he smiled, kissing her fully on her swollen and red lips.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, a soft tenderness in his voice she never would suspect him of being capable of using, let alone possessing. Marcus Flint never ceased to amaze her.

Both of them were panting heavily and he stared into her eyes. He kissed her once more before sitting up and staring down at her. She looked amazing lying there amidst the black and green of his bed. Her brown mess of curls were spread out on the dark green pillowcase like a fan and her pale skin was such a stark contrast to the blackness of the bedspread. He meant it. She was beautiful. Beyond beautiful.

And that was why he couldn't do this. Not right now. She deserved something so much more than having her first time with a bloke like him. He didn't understand why she had deemed him worthy of taking such a thing from her. He wasn't anything special. He was nothing like the men she usually surrounded herself with and she didn't know anything about him. Surely, Hermione Granger was the kind of girl who wanted to be familiar with the man about to take her virginity.

As if reading his thoughts, Hermione sat up and slid her arms around his shoulders, one of her hands going to his cheek to turn his face towards her. She smiled faintly at him, their faces so close together, her nose brushed against his. She wondered how he was able to void his face of any emotion whatsoever. Nothing, not even his eyes, gave any indication as to what he was thinking or feeling. It, at times, could be slightly unsettling. Just once, she wanted to know what he was thinking or give her some hint as to how he felt about her – or anything for that matter.

"I want you, Marcus," she whispered, staring right into his eyes, silently congratulating herself for not even blushing at the forwardness of her statement.

He stared at her. "Why?" He asked, pulling his head back slightly so not only could he see her eyes, but look at the rest of her face as well.

"Because what I feel for you is something I have never felt before with anyone else. I don't know why I feel this way for you but I do."

For some reason, that made him smirk. He just couldn't bring himself to believe that a girl like her would even remotely like a guy like him. "Hermione," he paused. "You don't even know me."

She pulled back slightly. "So tell me something. What do you want me to know?"

"I feel guilty for bringing it this far," he said, staring at her, watching as her mouth turned downwards in a frown, her eyebrows furrowed with slight confusion. He shook his head slightly. "I'm not the guy girls want their first time to be with. I'm the kind…" he slipped away from her, standing up, and looked down at her, still sitting on his bed, still looking like a woman who had just been thoroughly kissed. "I'm the kind that shags your brains out and never talks to you again."

"Have you been with a lot of women?" Hermione asked though she knew that he had and she didn't particularly want to hear him actually say the answer.

"Yes," Marcus answered bluntly, taking another step away from her. Seeing her sitting on her bed, it was too tempting a situation. She may have wanted him but for once, Marcus Flint was trying to do the honorable thing. "You want to be another notch on the belt?"

Hermione stared at him, his face still completely blank. But she knew that he was just saying that. He was trying to stop this from proceeding between them because it was different than all of his previous times. He was scared and she almost smiled at the thought. She, Hermione Granger, was scaring Marcus Flint. If his other Slytherins could see him now.

"It won't be like that and we both know it," she said, growing more confident with each passing second. He wanted her. She noticed the distance he was purposely putting between them. He wanted her and he was trying to fight it. She may have been the virgin between them but at the moment, neither knew what they were doing.

Hermione stood up and went to him, smiling faintly. He tensed slightly as her hands went to his chest then slid down to the bottom of his jumper. Their eyes locked together, she began pushing the garment upwards and finally, with a resigned breath, Marcus lifted his arms and helped her take it off. He tossed it onto the chair and then looked at her again. He was still wearing a white wife-beater shirt and her hands rested on his chest as she looked up at him.

"What does this mean?" She asked him, her fingers moving to trace the tattoo of Chinese symbols on his right bicep.

"_Snake_," he whispered, watching her, his entire body reacting to the feather light touches of her fingertips. "I got that slapped on me during a very drunken weekend in Morocco of all places."

That made Hermione smile and she moved her eyes to his again. "It suits you." He smirked at that but it faded as Hermione pressed herself against him. "Can you take my dress off?"

His fingers almost immediately went to the zipper on the back of said dress but he stopped himself. "Do you really want me to?"

She nodded her head without hesitation, not double-guessing herself or over-analyzing the situation as she sometimes was tended to do. She wanted this. She wanted him. For the first time in her life, she was excited about the prospect of having sex. With Viktor, they had come close a few times during their relationship but she had always been so petrified. She had never felt ready to do that act with Viktor but now, standing in Marcus' bedroom with him, she had never felt more sure of anything. Her body hummed with excitement, anticipation for what was to come. She wanted this with him. There were no questions floating in her head about how things would change for both of them and she knew for certain that she was not going to regret doing this with him. She wanted him – in every sense of the word.

Marcus was treating her as carefully as if she was glass and he ever so slowly pulled the zipper down, exposing inch by inch of her back. She moved her arms back so he could brush the straps from off her shoulders and she stepped away as the flimsy material slipped from her body with a silent whoosh, leaving her in simple white panties and a matching bra. She went back to him and took hold of his other shirt, wanting that off as well. Marcus didn't stop her this time and pulled it off over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Hermione's small hands went to his bare chest – muscular and pale and he inhaled a sharp breath of air as she pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone.

As she placed her lips everywhere on his chest, he began to guide them backwards towards the bed again and his fingers unhooked her bra clasp with expertise. He guided it slowly off of her and Hermione lifted her head, watching his intent stare on her almost completely naked body nearly giving her delighted shivers. For once, she saw something on his face and it was a look of pure animalistic lust. She had seen men give women that look before but she had never been on the receiving end of it until tonight. With Marcus staring at her like that, she truly felt beautiful and desirable.

"Your breasts are not too small," was all he said before lowering his head and cupping both in his hands, sucked one into his mouth without hesitation.

Hermione's hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him there as she felt as if she was about to fall, and threw her head backwards, her eyes clenching shut as he licked and lavished attention on both breasts. She felt as if her body was on fire and the ache between her legs grew to almost a mind-numbing pain. She moaned softly and rocked her hips forward, pressing them against his, feeling his growing arousal inside his jeans and he somewhat growled as he pushed her down onto the bed with an almost gentle impatience. He was being so gentle with her, Hermione noted in the back of her head and that honestly surprised her.

Gentle and Marcus were not two words that most people would even think of stringing together in the same sentence.

Her hands glided up from his shoulders to his head, gripping strands of his hair as he continued his assault on her breasts, licking and nibbling and sucking on them. Her nipples were hard in the cold air of the bedroom and yet, she felt as if she was on fire. She bucked her hips up again as he bit down on the delicate flesh and moaned louder, arching her back. He was still wearing his blue jeans and the friction of the rough fabric against her bare legs was utterly delicious. She spread her legs a bit wider for him, cradling him in the "v", making her even more wet for her desire for him. She wanted him so much.

Marcus moved his lips upwards, his naked chest pressing against hers, and he kissed her deeply on the mouth, his tongue thrusting forward to tangle with hers. Hermione moaned softly into his mouth, one hand gripping the back of his head while the other cupped one of his cheeks. His tongue moved in and out of her mouth, mimicking the actions his lower body hoped to be doing soon enough. They kissed for what felt like hours, tasting one another, drinking one another in. His body covered hers like a blanket and she ran her hands everywhere within her reach. He was so hard and muscular, sculpted to perfection, and she felt his muscles twitch in her fingers' wake.

"Your jeans," she moaned, now with frustration and Marcus snickered against her lips before pulling away.

It look less than one minute to divulge himself of his pants and her of her panties but it felt to both as if an eternity had passed. The cold air hit her soaked heat and she gasped at the torturous sensation before Marcus spread her legs again for him and laid down on top of her, his mouth immediately returning to hers. She melted as she felt his naked flesh pressed to hers and his hard length against the inside of her thigh. She had no idea that intimacy with another person could feel so… wonderful.

Hermione moaned softly, her hands running up and down his back, desperate to grab hold of something but all she found were his firm muscles. Marcus' lips and hands seemed to be everywhere on her body at once and it was driving her crazy. She had no idea how he was doing it. She suddenly though felt very grateful that he was so experienced. She knew that her first time was going to hurt but as long as Marcus was the one she was with, she knew that he would take care of her. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing to her.

"Marcus," she moaned, her back arching off the bed as he sucked on a patch of skin on her neck, nipping gently at the tender flesh with his teeth before soothing it over with his tongue and sucking on it again.

The neck apparently was a weak spot for her and Marcus filed that information away for future use, damned sure that there were going to be plenty of opportunities to come later. She moaned again as his lips swept down to her breasts and he carefully sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. She moaned with the pleasure spiking throughout her body and she arched again, offering more of her breasts to him.

"Marcus," she said again, her hands grabbing his shoulders and squeezing. She shifted on the bed, trying to alleviate the growing ache between her thighs.

Marcus lifted his head from his breasts to look at her. "Are you okay?"

She was barely able to nod her head though and talking was beyond her. She was far better than okay.

One of his hands drifted down to between her legs as he pulled his body up over hers, covering hers again. He placed hot open-mouthed kisses on her chest and neck as his finger teased her, feeling her. With frustration, Hermione reached down and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, showing him what she wanted though she couldn't even begin to understand right then how she knew what she wanted. Marcus smiled at her boldness, watching her face as he gave her just that. He pushed a finger inside of her, his own arousal growing harder as he listened to her gasp at the foreign intrusion. She was so tight, so wet.

"Fuck," he growled lowly, her tight heat squeezing his finger and he could only imagine what it would be like when other part of his anatomy was inside of her.

She moaned louder as he pushed his finger in and out of her soaked centre. He was watching her. She could feel his eyes on her as he laid on his side as close to her as possible, his finger expertly moving inside of her, touching her in just the right places. Her fingers still remained wrapped around his wrist and her hips began moving up and down in matching rhythm to his movements. It felt awkward and she didn't know what she was doing but Marcus cursed again under his breath at the sight so she assumed she was doing something right. She felt so hot. She wondered if she had ever been this hot before. He added another finger and she breathed his name, her other hand going to the back of his head.

Everything he was doing felt so incredible to her. She had never felt anything like this before. But it wasn't enough. It still wasn't nearly enough. She wanted so much more. Marcus knew it. He sensed it and Hermione wrapped her arms around him as he moved on top of her, pulling his fingers out of her, knowing she wanted something more than that. He brushed a thumb across her cheek, making her give him a breathless smile and Marcus knew that he had never seen anything more beautiful than she was in that moment.

"I can't do this," Marcus said with a shake of his head. He sighed when Hermione opened her mouth to protest. "I want to. Believe me I do. I think you can feel how much I want you." She flushed at that and he smirked, pressing his erection against her thigh. "But… Hermione, I'm thinking that maybe I should take you out first."

Surprise flashed in her eyes and then, staring up at him, a soft smile crossed over her lips. "You want to take me out? On a date?"

Hearing the word "date", let alone saying it, was one he had never used in a conversation before. He didn't take girls out on dates. Ever. But Marcus knew that Hermione was the kind of girl that needed to be wined and dined properly. He couldn't treat her like any other woman previously in his life. She already meant more to him than any of them ever had and he had to show that to her. He supposed taking her out on a date was the best way to go about doing that though he was so far out of his realm right now, he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to be doing.

"Yes," he answered simply.

She smiled a bit wider. "And then will you shag my brains out since that's what you do to your other women?"

He stared at her seriously then shook his head slightly. "You're not like those other women. You know that."

Hermione felt her heart elevate in her chest and she almost uncharacteristically giggled girlishly at his words. She slid her arms around his shoulders and lifted her head, pressing her lips to his in a sweet soft kiss. "Yes, I'll go out with you," she said and watched as one of those rare, yet completely genuine smiles dawned over his features as if he had been doubting her answer and she kissed him again.


	7. The First Morning

**_A/N: Thank you for the reviews of the last chapter. Please read and review this one for me as well. I would really appreciate it and I look forward to what everyone thinks about this new chapter._**

* * *

Chapter Seven – The First Morning

Upon feeling bright unrelenting sunshine pour onto her face, Hermione woke up with a start, panicking for a moment as she looked around the room, instantly realizing that she wasn't in her own flat but somewhere else entirely. But then she saw the starkness of the room besides the furniture and she looked down and saw the green sheets twisted around her legs. She sighed softly, her entire body instantly relaxing. The bedroom looked quite different in the light of day – more inviting and warm. Though the complete lack of personal possessions was a bit odd, the room made her smile nonetheless as she took another look around from the bed.

At the realization of being in Marcus' room, having spent the night sleeping in Marcus' bed, she turned her head to the left and saw him still asleep, laying on his stomach, the pillow hugged to his face with one arm while the other was stretched out towards her. It had been draped over her stomach, almost protectively, but when she had sat up, it had slid down and now rested in her lap. She smiled, blushing, as she took the opportunity of Marcus in such a relaxed state to truly study him. There weren't his usual walls up surrounding him and cutting himself off from her. He looked so young and worry-free as he slept and Hermione felt her heart flutter in her chest like a flap of butterfly wings as she looked at him.

She thought of how gentle and careful he was with her the night before during their rather heated explorations. Though he hadn't made love to her like she had been hoping he would, the way he had touched her and kissed her, Hermione knew that it had been one of the best nights of her life. It had been late when she had even thought of returning to her flat – after hours spent lying on his bed as his lips and hands seemed as if it was memorizing her body – and Marcus had insisted she stay the night. She had a feeling that she was the first woman to ever receive such an invitation from him and together, they had slipped in between the sheets to sleep. He had given her one of his tee-shirts to wear and he had slipped on a pair of boxer shorts and Hermione knew that he didn't trust himself to be naked around her.

"Stop staring at me," he suddenly mumbled and Hermione couldn't help but laugh softly as she laid down again, rolling onto her side, facing him, and Marcus slowly blinked his eyes open so he could see her. She smiled shyly, blushing, and he smirked. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I forgot where I was," she admitted and he smirked again, inching his head across his pillow, moving closer to her.

"Did you sleep alright?" He asked and she nodded her head, unable to look away from him. She felt his arm on her stomach, his thumb brushing up and down her side soothingly and it made her blush again. It all felt so incredibly intimate and Hermione found herself hoping that there would be no cause to ever get out of that bed. "You're a cover thief."

Hermione's mouth fell open in shock and Marcus laughed. "I am not a cover thief!" She argued and sat up on her knees, turning to look down at him. "This room is freezing and I was cold."

Marcus' smirk grew a bit wider as he rolled onto his back, one of his hands naturally going to rest on her thigh as if this was something that happened every morning between them. He had never had a woman spend the night at his flat before, going against the rules that he had set up for himself. He never brought a woman home with him because they would get it into their heads that a shag between them meant something more. But there he was, sharing a bed with Hermione and he hadn't even had sex with her.

She sat there, wearing a gray tee-shirt of his, it being so large on her that the collar had slipped down past one of her shoulders, exposing her pale perfect skin to him. His eyes were fixated on her and he couldn't believe how beautiful she looked even in the morning. He had forgotten to close the curtains the night before and the sunlight poured in through the windows, shining on her chestnut hair, mussed from sleep and Marcus lifted a hand to wrap one of her wayward curls around his finger. She smiled, tilting her head into his touch, and she reached out, resting a hand lightly on his chest.

"Next time you're feeling cold," Marcus said lowly, pushing himself on one elbow, his fingers falling from her hair to her bare shoulder. "You can sleep closer to me."

Hermione stared at him, her fingers slowly moving down his chest towards his stomach. He sucked in a lungful of air, his body tensing at her touch. It felt too damn good and if he wasn't careful, that morning was going to take a very sexual turn that he had been able to successfully stop the night before.

"So does that mean that I will have other opportunities to sleep closer to you?" She asked, leaning towards him.

Marcus didn't answer. Instead, he simply kept staring at her and Hermione felt her heart begin to pound in her chest. She wanted to kiss him but she didn't know what he wanted. She never did when it came to Marcus and though it frustrated her, it also seemed to be a cause of endless intrigue for her.

"Because I would like that," she added. "I would like to sleep near you again."

He sat up and slid a hand onto her cheek but when he leaned in to kiss her, she smiled faintly, pursing her lips together and shaking her head.

"What is it?" He asked, frowning, pulling away slightly.

She smiled, blushing with embarrassment. "I should probably brush my teeth before you do that."

Marcus laughed, shaking his head slightly and then before she could protest again, he swooped in and pressed his mouth to hers in a hard kiss that had her squeak in surprise for a moment. He moved his lips against hers, over and over again and Hermione could do nothing except give in to his demands. She moaned as his tongue traced her lips and she tilted her head to the side, allowing him to kiss her deep.

She felt his hands grab at the hem of her tee-shirt, it technically being his though, and she pulled her head back just enough for him to rip it off over her head before he cupped the back of her head and brought her lips to his again. He kissed her so hard, it felt almost as if he was bruising her lips but it only made Hermione moan pleasurably. Hard or soft, Marcus made her entire body tingle with desire and an ache she had never known before him. He wrapped his arms around her and slowly guided her onto her back, her head now resting at the foot of the bed. Her fingers dug into the tight muscles of his back and he ground down against her to let her know that he liked when she did that.

Her naked chest pressed against his and the only things to separate them now were his boxer shorts and her panties. Marcus knew that if they were both completely naked right then, he would already be inside of her. Waking up with her next to him, seeing her in the early morning light, her smiling and blushing and saying how she wanted to do this again, it all effected Marcus in such a way that he couldn't seem to control. Everything about Hermione made him feel as if he was drunk off his ass.

"You're horrible," Hermione informed him breathlessly.

He quirked an eyebrow up at that. "You would be the first woman to say that to me," he said then gave a rare full grin when she rolled her eyes.

"I meant, that you're horrible because how am I supposed to be expected to go into work today when you're making me feel like this?" She asked him, her fingers drawing random patterns on his biceps and back that had him nearly shivering with his growing need.

"You don't have to go to work today. Have you ever taken a day off?"

Hermione looked at him as if she had never even thought of such a thing. "No."

Marcus smirked, bending his head down to begin placing kisses on the side of her throat. "We could both take the day off, go out to breakfast..."

"Our first date?" Hermione asked, a hint of a smile in her voice and Marcus nodded, keeping his lips fused to the pale delicate skin of her throat. For a moment, she was thinking about it. Hermione Granter was actually considering taking the day off so she could spend it with Marcus Flint. She couldn't do that though – no matter how badly she wanted to. Reluctantly, she shook her head. "I can't."

"I know," Marcus said with a sigh, lifting his head and looking down at her. "There was a shred of hope there though for a second."

"Well… what would we possibly do all day if I _was_ to stay away from work today?" Hermione asked and a devious smile slowly spread across his face – the smile of a snake and the ache between her legs intensified.

"Judging by hard your nipples are right now, I think I would have to suck on those for a while," Marcus said, shifting slightly so he could graze one of his hands down over her breasts. She bit down on her lip, moaning softly, her eyes sliding closed as she lost herself to his touch. "I want to know every inch of you," he whispered so softly, Hermione wasn't sure if she had heard him or had just imagined it.

He leaned down to kiss Hermione's neck, letting his tongue slowly wander down her breast and her hands wandered to his hair and neck, rubbing him, encouraging him.

Sucking gently on her nipples, Marcus heard her breathing heavily. He let his mouth wander over her stomach until he reached her panties. Looking up for confirmation, Marcus watched Hermione nod and he slowly slid them off her small frame. He was now seated at the head of the bed, and he began running his hands over Hermione's inner thighs. Her back arched slightly and he smirked. He knelt between her thighs and slowly began rubbing her with his hand. Hermione involuntarily jumped, but smiled at Marcus to silently ask him to continue.

Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated on the way Marcus was touching her body. He was being gentle, massaging her. Then she felt him slip a finger inside her like he had the night before, moving in and out a few times before adding another finger and rubbing her clit with his thumb. Hermione let out a soft moan, and Marcus sped up a little. She felt wonderful and she felt herself pressing down against his hand. A moment later, though, it was gone and she opened her eyes.

Marcus was lowering his head, but his eyes were still on her. "Is this okay?" he asked softly.

He could tell Hermione was nervous with this new endeavor, but she nodded, so he continued. Her body seemed to freeze completely and her stomach tightened as her heart pounded heavily. He gently ran his tongue over Hermione and reveled in tasting her. He used his hand to spread her slightly and began his attempt to please her. His tongue glided into her, his mouth surrounded her. Within a few moments, Hermione's breathing became very shallow and quick.

Watching him, she had originally been nervous. Now, though, all she felt was desire. Marcus was sucking at her gently, his tongue sliding inside of her, his hand rubbing her thigh, and she was getting a little dizzy. She felt as if the bed was spinning around her. She was feeling warmth as he continued, but when he moved his hand up to her clit and began rubbing it at the same time, Hermione was overcome with want. She squeezed her eyes closed and began rhythmically pressing down against Marcus' mouth. She took the tangled bed sheets in each hand, squeezing, and heard words escaping her mouth that she couldn't even seem to control.

"God, Marcus. Oh, God, that feels good. Oh, oh, oh…" And with one movement, Hermione pressed herself hard against Marcus' hand and mouth as she began to tingle with pleasure. She felt heat and what seemed like a burst, a release, and she moaned loudly, her back arching and her body exploding.

"That's my girl," Marcus smirked as he slid up next to her. Hermione opened her eyes and looked at his, which were dancing, pleased with what he had just done.

"So I just, I had a…" Hermione looked for confirmation. She had never had one before and wanted to be certain. Her body was still humming pleasantly and she felt as if her entire being had just melted.

"Yes," he grinned at her.

Hermione gazed at Marcus' face as her body began to recover. He was gently running his fingers lightly up her arm and watching her with contentment. But she could also feel him hard through his boxers. Leaning over, she began kissing him.

"Thank you," she whispered as Marcus began kissing her neck again. "Do you want me to… you know."

He smirked, shaking his head, looking at her. "Don't worry about it. I was just trying to convince you to take the day off."

She laughed at that. "Oh. So you really didn't want to do that at all? It was just your way of persuasion?"

"That depends if I succeeded or not," he grinned, cupping her cheeks in his hands.

He kissed her softly on the lips and Hermione blushed when she was able to taste a hint of herself in his mouth. She didn't pull away though. It was oddly erotic. Her fingers tunneled through his hair and his hands began roving over her body again.

She almost lost herself to him again but a sudden thought made her jerk away from him, gasping. "Oh, no!" She breathed, scurrying away from him and rushing to go collect her dress from the chair. "I have a meeting this morning. We are meeting with some of the wizarding council from Denmark and I…" She trailed off in a panic as she slipped her dress on in a hurry but then remembered her bra. She spun in a circle, trying to locate it but then decided that she didn't need it and sat down to put on her heels. "You distracted me."

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself," Marcus said smugly, leaning back, sitting against the headboard as he watched her frantically get dressed, not even trying to hide his amusement.

"If you see my bra-"

"I will be sure to keep it," he finished for her with a grin. "Will you be able to have lunch today or will the meeting last all day?"

Hermione went to the dresser, looking at her reflection in the mirror hanging above it. Even though she was still a virgin, she wondered if she looked different nonetheless from how she had looked before coming over to Marcus'. She certainly felt different. She felt older, more experienced, more… happy. She caught Marcus in the reflection and he was staring at her. She smiled at him faintly. _He_ made her happy. How on earth had that happened?

"Unfortunately, I think the meeting will last as long as necessary," she answered. She went to his side of the bed and tucking strands of hair behind her ears, she bent down and kissed him firmly on the lips. She pulled away though before he could take anything further between them and she smiled down at him.

"I'll let you know about lunch," she promised and then took a step back when he pulled himself from the bed, standing in front of her. He was so tall and so close to her, that she had to tilt her head up to look at him. He was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and looking at his muscular body in front of her. She opened her mouth to speak further but Marcus slid his hands onto her cheeks and tilting her head upwards towards him even more, he kissed her square on the mouth.

He smirked when he pulled away, her eyes still closed and her mouth open, hoping for another one. "Have fun at work."

She looked at him only to narrow her eyes at him. "That was just mean," she said before apparating with a sharp pop and he laughed, shaking his head slightly, before going into the bathroom to start his morning off with a very cold shower.

* * *

"You are in some serious shite, Marcus Flint," Adrian Pucey said the instant Marcus stepped into his office at the ministry later that morning. Adrian was sitting in Marcus' chair, reading that morning's edition of _The Daily Prophet_, his feet kicked up on the edge of the desk and a smile on his face.

Marcus paused for only a brief moment before going to the corner to hang his cloak and scarf up on the peg on the wall. That morning had been the coldest yet of the season, signaling to all that the fall weather was definitely on its way in. He rubbed a hand through his hair and then went to his desk, not too-gently pushing Adrian out of his chair before plopping down in it himself.

There were several case files to work through that morning. He and Blaise, also in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had made several small-time arrests that past Friday but neither had wanted to fill out the proper reports, both deciding to hold off until Monday. Glancing at Blaise's unoccupied desk across the room, Marcus saw that his partner had once again left him with the mundane task. Lazy bastard was probably still hung over and passed out in whichever witch's bed he had gone home with from the pub from the night before.

"And why am I in some serious shite?" Marcus asked, already pre-occupied with work, moving pieces of parchment around, looking for his pen and not really caring if Adrian answered him or not.

He really wished suddenly that he had taken the day off like he had suggested to Hermione earlier. At the thought of her, he found himself almost smiling but he quickly caught himself and replaced it with the typical Marcus Flint scowl. Marcus Flint _did not_ smile when he thought of a woman. He rarely smiled and that was not going to change. He smirked, allowed himself to laugh when he was amused but smiling just because he was happy… Bleedin' hell, Marcus thought to himself, almost dazed. He was happy. Hermione made him happy. How in the hell had that happened? _When _did that happen?

"Oh, as if you didn't know already," Adrian said and then with that, slapping the paper down on the desk in front of Marcus. "I never would have believed it if I didn't see it with my own two eyes."

Marcus stared down at the open page that Adrian had been reading – the gossip page. Mindless dribble that Marcus always ignored and never followed. But there he was, smack dab in the middle of the page: a picture of him and Hermione featured.

_**War-hero Hermione Granger Seen with New Love Marcus Flint**_

New love? Marcus frowned as he read the headline before staring at the photograph. Apparently, people had noticed them together in Diagon Alley. They had just been waiting though to make their move and apparently last week, when Marcus had taken her hand and walked with her, that had been what they had been waiting for. The picture replayed over and over again of Marcus holding her hand as he guided them across the alley towards the Quidditch shop. Marcus knew that people wouldn't be staring at their interlocked hands however. They would be looking at what he noticed almost immediately from the photograph.

When Marcus took her hand, the smile Hermione had on her face was one of such unadulterated happiness, that it nearly knocked him back. He had never made a girl smile like that before. In the picture, Hermione looked down at their connected hands and then up at Marcus as he guided them through the crowds and that smile slowly spread across her lips, overtaking her entire face and it seemed to radiate from her being. She was happy and just from Marcus holding her hand in his.

"What do you have that a girl like Hermione Granger wants?" Adrian asked. "Besides the obvious of course. Unless… that is all she wants." He paused in though and then shook his head. "No. If all she wanted was a bit of sex, she would have come to me."

"Your ego never ceases to amaze me," Marcus murmured, still staring at the photo.

Adrian laughed then grew solemn, sitting down in Blaise's chair across the small, cramped office. "Your father is going to kill you," he said quietly.

Marcus nodded. "I know."

"He'll rip you of your inheritance."

"I know."

Adrian stood up again, anxious, and sighing heavily, ran a hand through his hair, ruining the otherwise perfectly styled coif. "What are you going to do, Marc? You can't exactly deny it. The picture is pretty obvious that you've been spending time with her and you know your father reads-"

"I know, Adrian," Marcus said, growing impatient. He slammed the paper into the trash bin next to his desk and then began the search for his pen again, ignoring the ache that was slowly begin to pound his head and the knot in his stomach that made him feel as if he was about to throw up.

There was not a single doubt in his mind that Michael Flint had already read the paper that morning and he would be coming to discuss things with his son soon enough. Never would anything between Hermione Granger and Michael Flint's son be acceptable. Michael would probably kill Marcus before he let anything like that happen. It amazed Marcus how happy one moment he could feel and then the next, how miserable.

He thought of his night and morning with Hermione. He had never felt that relaxed with another person before. Just kissing her, touching her, listening to her soft sighs and whispers of his name had made him more aroused than he had ever been by the dozen witches before her. He had never shared his bed with any of them before. He went to their flats and kept his as if it was quarantined from anyone of the opposite sex. But Hermione, lying on his bed, had looked so natural there – as if she had always been a part of it.

When he had asked her to stay, he had expected to feel claustrophobic but that feeling had never come. Instead, with Hermione in his tee-shirt and nestled underneath the sheets, Marcus had slept next to her, his arms wrapped around her, his nose buried in her hair as he inhaled her scent all night long. He had been comfortable and happy and… he wanted her to stay there with him for as long as she could and this was from a man who lived and breathed personal space.

He had never felt like this before. He wanted to run towards it and yet at the same time, he wanted to get as far away from it as possible.

"How long has this been going on? I tried to get with her at Potter's wedding and she said she wasn't with anyone-"

"She wasn't," Marcus interrupted. For some reason, he began to feel his blood rise as it pumped faster through his body. He didn't know what was wrong with him but it almost seemed as if he was jealous at the mere thought of Adrian trying to get together with Hermione. He hated that vision seared in his brain now.

"And is she now?" Adrian asked with a cocked eyebrow and amused smirk. Marcus wanted to punch him. "Are you and Hermione Granger… dating?" He almost laughed at his own question and it only made Marcus even more pissed off.

Marcus didn't answer immediately because he didn't know what the answer was. Just because last night, he had kissed her more than any other woman before or had run his hands all over her body in an attempt to memorize it or this morning, he had gone down on her and her cries of orgasm had been like a sweet melody to his ears, that didn't mean they were together. He had asked her out on a date but even that didn't mean anything. Men and women went out on dates all the time without any of it mounting to mean anything between them.

He didn't even know if he wanted to be with Hermione. He had fun with her. He enjoyed her company and he was able to relax around her. She understood him even if she realized she did or not. She knew that he didn't like to talk a lot and even if it clearly frustrated her, she didn't force him into any conversation he didn't want to have. So many women demanded that men talk about every little thought and feeling they had but Hermione knew that Marcus would never talk about such things. She never forced him to even if she wanted him to. He really appreciated that from her whether he ever expressed it or not.

But that didn't mean he wanted to have anything with her. Things would be too complicated if they were together. They already were and they hadn't even gone out once on an official-type date. He tried to imagine just how messed up it would be if they were dating. He was Marcus Flint, heir to the Flint fortune and proud Slytherin. And she was Hermione Granger, princess of Gryffindor. It wasn't as if they belonged together or something nonsensical like that. They had just become friends and it was a universally known fact that the quickest way to ruin a friendship was by turning it into a relationship.

"Aw. Is little Markie in love?" Adrian teased and Marcus opened his mouth to tell his oldest and closest friend to go sod off – but using not such nice terms – but the dark figure of his father appearing in the open doorway of the office stopped him and as was his habit, Marcus immediately stood up at the sight of him. "Hello, Mr. Flint," Adrian greeted politely though all sense of playfulness had extinguished from his eyes like a flame.

"My son and I need some privacy," Michael Flint said, his cold eyes staring at Marcus.

Marcus hated how much he looked like his father – the tall oafish-like body, the black hair, the dark eyes. Marcus had also gotten his animal like teeth from him but unlike his son, Michael had never magically fixed his snarl.

Neither Flint noticed as Adrian quickly disappeared from the office, closing the door behind him, leaving Marcus trapped. There was no where he could go – not with the wrath of his father on his tail. And as expected, Michael held up his own copy of _The Daily Prophet_, the pages folded open to reveal the picture of Marcus and Hermione. Marcus' eyes instantly went to the smile gracing Hermione's face and it felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. Merlin, she was gorgeous.

"Are you fucking a mudblood?" Michael asked, his voice low and harsh.

His father was nothing if not direct, Marcus though wryly to himself but he would never have the guts to say anything of the sort to him. Whenever he stood before his father, Marcus instantly resorted to being a small boy again instead of a man in his twenties.

"No," Marcus was able to answer truthfully – for the time being, it was the truth anyway. The way things were heating up between him and Hermione though, who knew how long her virginity would remain intact. He wanted to tell his father to never call Hermione a "mudblood" again but he couldn't. He could never tell Michael anything no matter how much the man managed to piss him off.

"Do you know how embarrassing this is for me, boy?" Michael asked. "Do you know how many associates of mine have already owled me, demanding an explanation? They feel that if I can't even control my son, I can't possibly control their business."

"You know the _Prophet_," Marcus dared to say. "A bunch of blown-out of proportion propaganda. Nothing is going on between me and that… mudblood." He felt bile sting the back of his throat but he maintained composure. "I barely know her. We have the same circle of friends."

He always thought it strange that Michael never had a problem with Marcus befriending Potter or Weasley or Lovegood but Marcus knew that family purity meant more to Michael more than what side of the war anyone had been on. It still pissed him off beyond belief that Marcus had fought against Voldemort but this was so much worse than that. Marcus was purposely being seen walking around with someone with dirty blood and there was no offense greater than that.

"If you see her again, Marcus, and I find out about it, that is it. You are no longer part of anything having to do with the Flint family. I will cut you out and that will be the end of everything," Michael threatened and Marcus stared at him, knowing that he was deadly serious.

Michael Flint never jested.

An owl flapped into the office and dropping a piece of folded parchment on his desk, it flew out again but Marcus did not make a move to read it. Instead, his eyes remained locked with his father's – two gunslingers at high noon, awaiting their duel. He knew that Michael had no qualms whatsoever about kicking Marcus out of the family as if he was nothing more than a disobedient house elf instead of his only son. He knew that Michael would take his money from him without even blinking.

"Your stepmother is hosting an event this weekend at the house and you _will_ be there. You will meet some appropriate girls of the right station," Michael ordered leaving no room for argument – not that Marcus would ever attempt to argue.

Marcus wasn't sure how much had passed from when his father had stalked out of the small office to when he remembered the piece of mail the owl had delivered. Sitting down in his chair, still feeling nauseous and now exhausted like he always did after meetings with his father like that, he opened the parchment. It was from Hermione. He smirked bitterly. Of course it was. Who else would it be from? At that moment in time, no other person sending him mail would have been nearly as appropriate.

_I just found out that my meeting will only last through the morning so I will be able to go for lunch today if you still want to go. Hermione_

_P.S. Did you ever find my bra?_

_P.P.S. I hope you are having a wonderful morning_.

The last statement of hers almost had him laughing though she had meant it in the most innocent of ways possible. If only she knew the truth. He stared down at the paper in his hands. Even with her simple words, her elegant script flowing, Marcus could imagine her perfectly, writing it all out with a smile on her face. Why the fuck did he make her so happy? What did he do to her? He had no idea and he tried to rack his brain, trying to figure it out. Why had any of his happened? Things in his life had been so simple before he had decided to entangle himself with her.

_If you see her again, Marcus, and I find out about it, that is it._

Michael's words echoed over and over in his mind and he couldn't shake them. With a deep sigh, he crumbled the note up and without even able to watch himself do it, he threw it into the trash bin.


	8. The Want

Chapter Eight – The Want

"**Y**ou didn't sleep with him, did you Hermione?" Pansy suddenly asked her, almost causing her to choke on the spoonful of mushroom soup she was sipping on but Hermione quickly composed herself.

"I wasn't aware that I was supposed to," she answered, her cheeks flushed from the turn in conversation. One moment, they had been talking about a baby shower for Ginny once she told her family and the next, her non-existent relationship with Marcus had to be brought up.

Hermione didn't want to think about Marcus Flint at the moment let alone talk about him even if it was to her three closest girlfriends. Everyone had seen the picture of Marcus and Hermione from Monday's edition of _The_ _Daily Prophet_ and it seemed almost seemed that immediately, Ron and Harry were sending her owls, asking her if it was true. They weren't angry with her for possibly dating Marcus. They were more pissed off that she didn't tell them and they had to find out from the paper. Soon, all of her friends were stopping by to ask if she was really in love with Marcus as that blasted headline had suggested.

She hadn't known how to answer. It scared her how deeply she already cared for him but she didn't know if what she felt for him was love. She had never been in love before. How was she to know how it felt like? She smiled when she thought of him and she felt truly happy when she was with him. Thinking of their night together, of waking up in his tee-shirt and his arm around her, of his head between her legs bringing her pleasure that she had never before experienced… it had been the best morning of her life and she wanted one again with him soon.

But that had been on Monday. It was Wednesday now and she had met Ginny, Luna and Pansy for lunch at their usual café as always like every other week. Hermione had tried to contact Marcus for the past two days but she had figured out after the fifth ignored owl she sent him that he was avoiding her. Perhaps he was upset that everyone now knew that they had been spending time together. She missed him – something which terrified her.

Hermione was a very capable young woman. She didn't need the company of a man. But there she was, two days without him, and she was almost aching for his presence.

"I adore Marcus. He is one of my oldest friends from school but having sex with him is the quickest way to getting him out of your life," Pansy continued, flicking a strand of her dark hair over her shoulder. "That man does not know how to handle anything if it appears to be too serious."

"So you didn't have sex with him?" Ginny asked, trying to keep the doubt from her tone. She had looked at the photograph in the paper for what felt like hours and she had never seen Hermione smile like she had when Marcus had taken her hand. Ginny recognized the smile for that was the smile she knew she produced whenever Draco was around.

Hermione Granger was in love whether she knew or not.

"No, I did not have sex with Marcus Flint," Hermione answered impatiently with a sigh, taking a roll from the bread basket in the center of the table. "Is that such a surprise?" She asked, her eyebrows raised as she inquired her three friends.

Luna shook her head. "We were just wondering, Hermione. You haven't been with anyone since Viktor and we just want to make sure that you were alright."

"I thought Marcus was your friend," Hermione said, not speaking to one in particular.

"He is our friend," Ginny said, sitting up in her chair, leaning forward, resting her arms on the table. "We just know Marcus' reputation and we know that… you aren't like the usual girls Marcus goes for."

"I'm fine," Hermione insisted. "I promise. Marcus and myself… I can't explain it. When we're together, it just… works." She felt her cheeks blush just at the thought of him but at the same time, she felt her stomach knot with worry.

Why wasn't he responding to her owls? Why wasn't he talking to her? Was he upset with her? She knew she hadn't done anything. Perhaps he was angry about the photograph. But she had had nothing to do with that. She had been just as surprised as he clearly was when she had read _The Daily Prophet_ and saw their picture. Or maybe he was uncomfortable about their night spent together.

That didn't make any sense though. Like Ginny said, Marcus had a reputation with other women. He was far from an innocent virgin. He knew what he was doing when it came to sex. Hermione trusted him. She felt so comfortable and at ease around him. He made her feel beautiful. Just how he had treated her on Sunday night and the next morning, it almost made her cry to think of how sweet he had been with her. She never had felt so good before in her life and it was because of him.

But now, it seemed that as quickly and abrupt he had entered her life, he was gone again and Hermione could barely stand the thought. She missed him horribly. She wanted to march down to his office and demand he tell her where he had been. But she didn't want to act like some sort of girlfriend or something. That was the last thing she was and she knew that acting like one would only scare Marcus away further. She missed him, she wanted him, wished he would come to her but she couldn't do anything about it. She didn't know the first thing about dealing with a man like Marcus but she did know that pressuring him and demanding he spend time with her was not the right moves to make.

She missed him and she wished that he would stop avoiding her because that was what he was clearly doing.

* * *

**M**arcus hated being inside of the Flint mansion – especially when it involved another stupid dinner that his stepmother had organized. The same people always came and they were people that Marcus could not stand. He had known these other Pureblood families for his entire life but even as a boy, he didn't like them. They were all too much like his father and it just so happened that he hated his father so there was not the slimmest chance of him liking anyone in attendance that Friday evening.

He had come straight from work and his stepmother, Rebecca, took one look at him and sent him upstairs to his room where a house elf had laid out a tuxedo for him. He hated wearing tuxedos. His friends – Adrian, Blaise and Draco – had no problem with them but Marcus always felt so uncomfortable in them and even if everyone else in the room was wearing one as well, he always felt completely out of place wearing one. He really did not want to be there that night, rubbing elbows and pretending to shoot the shit with the same people he hated.

He wasn't going to lie to himself. He was a Slytherin and a proud one. He was wealthy and though he knew he wasn't handsome, he knew he wasn't hard to look at. He still kept the same self-assured attitude as well, knowing that he was better than most.

But ever since… Ever since Hermione had come into his life with her sweet smile and her gorgeous hair and laugh, and an intellect that would scare most men away, Marcus no longer cared about pure blood.

His father and stepmother, and all of those people downstairs eating crab cakes and breaded mushroom caps as hor d'oeuvres, they cared about keeping the blood untouched by outsiders between their families. Marcus had been raised to believe that anyone who wasn't a pureblood wasn't really a person at all – especially not one he should bother conversing with.

But Hermione had knocked him on his head. For some reason, she wanted to be with him – or he thought she did. She had come to him on Sunday night, wanting to give him her virginity and though he couldn't take it that night, he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of anyone else being with her in that sense. She was his. Whether she, or everyone else, knew it, Hermione Granger was his. He had kissed her and touched her and had had her on _his_ bed, crying out _his_ name. She was his and why did he care who knew it?

He wanted the money. Yes. What bloke in his right mind didn't want the inheritance he had been promised since he was a small boy? That money was his and he would get it. But he didn't want to stop seeing Hermione despite what he had been doing that week. That week had been the longest he had ever suffered through and he wasn't going to do that to himself again.

Maybe he could keep seeing her and spending his time with her but he could remain doing so in secret. He had to find a way to do it without his father ever finding out. He was not going to get cut out of the family. He was just as much a Flint as Michael. He was not going to be banished. But he didn't want to give Hermione up either. The way she made him feel, he wasn't a stupid enough oaf to not know that a feeling like that didn't come along very often. She was the first woman who stirred such feelings from him and he wanted to hold onto that.

He wanted to hold onto her.

He would go down to the party and schmooze to perfection as was the Flint way. He would be the son for once that his father had wanted. He would be charming and conversational and he would pretend to eagerly look at the other available pureblood witches in attendance. He would show Michael Flint that he deserved that money – that he was going to get that money.

But then, at the end of the night, he would go to Hermione and that was what he would spend his evening working towards.

* * *

**T**he heavy knock on the front of her flat came just as Sir Reginald had confessed his undying love for the heroine of the novel, Prudence, and came to rescue her from marrying a man she did not love. Hermione was lying on her bed, dressed for bed in a white tee-shirt and knickers, and curled underneath a heavy quilt that her grandmother had made for her when she was born with a steaming mug of hot chocolate on the nightstand next to the bed and the romance novel in her hands. A heavy rain had begun to fall shortly before the end of work for the day and at nearly eleven o'clock that night, the storm raged outside tumultuously.

Having no idea who would be knocking at that time of night, Hermione made her way hesitantly down the hallway, wand in hand. If it was Harry or Ron, they would have just let themselves in and no one else she knew would just drop by unannounced in the middle of a thunderstorm. Standing up on her tip-toes, she gasped when she peered out through the small window in her front door and saw who was standing on her landing, thoroughly soaked through. He raised his fist to knock again but Hermione opened the door before he could, the wind and rain instantly roaring into the front hallway.

"Marcus."

That was all she said before grabbing his hand and pulling him inside the warmth and dryness of her flat. He didn't say anything and merely stared at her as her hands fumbled with his wet cloak for a moment before managing to push it off his shoulders, it falling to the floor in a heavy sopping puddle. She didn't look into his eyes and instead, unwound the scarf from around his neck, it joining his cloak on the floor. The sweater he also wore was wet and helping her this time, he pulled it off over his head.

His hands went to her hips, pulling her lower body flush against his. She gasped softly with surprise and finally looked at him. His black hair was matted to his head from the rain and water droplets rolled down his face, neck and arms. He stood before her in black dress trousers and now a white undershirt. Even after not speaking with him for a week, her heart thudded familiarly in her chest as she looked at him.

"Hermione-" He said but then stopped himself. His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat but still did not speak further.

He stared at her and then down at what she was wearing, his eyes raking over her body and making her shiver. She loved when Marcus looked at her like that – like he was in the desert, dying of thirst, and she was the cold, tall pitcher of water. Marcus was the only man to have ever looked at her like that. She had missed him horribly during the past few days and though it should have scared her how much he already meant to him, it only made her happy that he was there, right then, dripping wet in her flat. He had come to her in the rain in the middle of the night.

Surely, in Marcus Flint language, that meant something.

She smiled faintly when his eyes went back to hers and then, still without saying anything, she took his hands in hers and pulled him down the hallway towards her bedroom. His eyes never left hers and once they stood next to her bed, she stepped up to him, sliding her arms around his neck and pushing herself up on her toes. She smiled at him mere seconds before she pressed her lips to his in a kiss, which he immediately reacted to, his arms circling around her waist, picking her up so her feet dangling above the floor as their mouths moved together perfectly.

It didn't matter anymore. It really didn't. Although Hermione wanted to ask him where he had been for the past few days, the thoughts left her mind as he kissed her as if he would die if he stopped doing so. He kissed her with so much want and lust, that Hermione felt as if she could barely keep up. She tasted the coolness of the rain against his lips and a hint of horseradish, making her wonder what he had eaten for supper, but that was another thought that flew from her mind as his tongue entered her mouth. She moaned softly, tightening her arms around his neck, wishing he would throw her down on the bed and have his way with her. She was happy that he was there, that he had come back from wherever it was that he had disappeared to.

She smiled against his lips and he pulled his head back so he could look at her. He asked a silent question and she closed her eyes momentarily, shaking her head slightly, smiling, before looking at him again.

"I'm just glad you're here," she said softly. "I've missed you."

Marcus slowly put her back on her feet, his eyes never leaving hers. "Why?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know. I just…" She took a step back. "You can take your shoes and pants off. I'm going to go get you a towel," she said and then quickly turned, disappearing into the bathroom.

He stared after her for a moment before kicking off his shoes and taking his pants off, looking around her bedroom. It didn't surprise him that her bedroom was the complete opposite of his. While his was cold, almost forbidding, Hermione's reminded him of a cozy cocoon, offering warmth and protection from the world outside. Her bed had sheets of a pale yellow and there were thick multi-colored quilts on top. There were stacks of books everywhere as well as two shelves against the wall, filled to capacity with more. Photos crowded one of her dresses: of her and her parents, of other family, of friends, several of her, Harry and Ron. In each, she looked so happy and carefree but no smile matched the one from the _Prophet_ photograph.

He sat down on the side of the bed, waiting for Hermione to return. For the first time that night, he felt at home with his surroundings. He sat up a bit straighter when Hermione emerged from the bathroom, white fluffy towel in hand. She went to stand in front of him, placing herself between his knees, and his hands instantly went to her smooth bare thighs as she began to gently towel his head off, drying his hair.

"That feels good," he allowed himself to say and he could almost hear her smiling as she continued with her gentle massaging and touching.

She removed the towel from his head and leaned forward, placing a light kiss on his forehead. His hands ran up and down her sides, before he gently started easing his hands up beneath the thin white cotton tee-shirt she wore. Hermione shivered as his cool hands brushed against her skin, igniting small fires within her body wherever he touched. She pulled away as he tugged her shirt upwards, leaving her clad in nothing but her white knickers. The nipples of her small yet full breasts were hard and Marcus continued rubbing her sides, his eyes level with her breasts.

"You really have no idea how beautiful you are," he said, tilting his head up, looking at her face. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you this week, you lying on my bed, your hair…" He lifted a hand to a thick strand hanging over her shoulder.

"Where have you been, Marcus?"

Hermione was unable to keep herself from asking. She had missed him so horribly and she didn't like how she felt when he was away.

He didn't answer her. Instead, he kept looking at her and then sliding his arms around her waist, he guided her towards him, pulling her down onto the bed with him until she was straddling him, her knees on either side of his hips, her bottom sitting in his lap. He could feel her breasts pressing against him through the thin material of his tee-shirt and he wished he had taken that off but he didn't want to pull away to do that now.

He slipped a hand up her smooth naked back until his fingers tangled in her hair and he cupped the back of her head. "I want you," he whispered, his mouth inching towards her, their lips parted, ready to be thoroughly kissed by the other.

Hermione felt her eyes slide closed as she could feel his hot breath from his open mouth exhaling on her. She was quickly beginning to burn and she pressed herself down on him, feeling his growing erection in his boxers and he hissed as he could feel her heat. She looked at him again and then, keeping her eyes securely locked with his, she dropped the towel onto the floor behind her and then leaning over, she managed to turn the lamp off on the nightstand, shooting the room into darkness.

It was as if something inside of Marcus snapped. He kissed her hard and deep and she moaned into his mouth, pressing against him again, her arms sliding around his shoulders, her body as close to his as possible. Merlin, she had missed him horribly.

"Tonight, I'm going to make you mine," he whispered, already panting from the kiss and Hermione knew the exact meaning in his words. She nearly moaned at them. Instead, she felt her core dampen and grow even more heated before he kissed her again and turned them around, laying her down on the bed and placing himself on top of her. "Do you want me, Hermione?"

"Yes, Marcus," Hermione whispered back, her body aching from her want with him. She had never felt this before but she knew that there was only one way for it to all stop. She reached up, her hands gliding up his firm muscular biceps and pulled him down until he was completely on top of her, his hard body pressed against her petite soft one and she could feel his hard length against her thigh. "I want you so much."

Marcus nearly asked her why. Why on earth would she want him? But he didn't want to. Now was no longer the time for questions or for much talking in general.

He was going to have her and once he did, no one would ever be able to take her away.

* * *

_A/N: The last chapter was the longest of the story but it hardly received any reviews so I have shortened this chapter in hopes that people will review. I am having a lot of people reading but no one is giving me their opinion and I really want them to. Thank you so much to everyone who has. I am glad some of you seem to like the story. Please read and review. Reviews motivate me to write the next chapter quickly. Thank you very much. _


	9. The First Time

Chapter Nine – The First Time

**H**ermione couldn't breathe. Marcus was in the process of kissing every inch of her body, having started at her neck then sweeping down to each of her shoulders before moving down towards her breasts. He was gently sucking on one nipple now while kneading the other breast with his hand and she couldn't stop the moans coming from the back of her throat. Her fingers tunneled through his hair, holding onto his head, not wanting his mouth to move and stop what he was doing to her right then. She couldn't believe how incredible and hot he was making her feel.

Outside, the storm continued to rage on – the rain pounding against the glass windows and the roof, the thunder rumbling, shaking the ground, and forks of lightning streaking across the pitch black sky, flashing momentarily into the room before sending everything into darkness again.

She gasped, bowing her back off the bed as his teeth grazed across her nipple and his hands gripped her hips, keeping her down. She bit down on her lower lip as he used his teeth again and her hands went to his shoulders, holding onto him tightly.

Fire. That was the only way she could possibly describe how her body felt at the moment. Flames licked her skin everywhere he touched and kissed and she felt as if she no longer had any control over her body. She was giving herself to him completely and Marcus willingly worshipped her body and everything she offered him. He was so amazing at this – his mouth hot and wet on her breasts as he continued with his ministrations.

"Marcus," she whispered breathlessly, tugging on his hair, and he lifted his head to look at her. "Can you take your shirt off?"

He sat up on his knees, tugging his tee-shirt off over his head and tossing it away, not looking to see where it landed. His remained kneeling up between her legs, staring at her, smiling slightly as his hands began running over her legs, the rough pads of his fingertips rubbing her impossibly smooth skin, watching as she reacted to his touch. She kept her eyes locked with his and she bit down on her bottom lip, moaning softly, her body beginning to move slightly, her back rubbing back and forth on the bed as he continued touching her legs.

"Can I take these off?" He asked her, his hands sweeping up to her knickers and she nodded, smiling, touched that he had even asked since he had seen her completely naked before.

She lifted her hips, helping him, and he slowly pulled her white knickers down her legs, revealing inch and glorious inch of her naked body to him. He tossed the scrap of cotton away before putting his hands on the inside of her knees, gently spreading her legs for him. She flushed as he stared at her so intently and openly but she didn't try to close herself to him.

His hands began rubbing her thighs again, inching closer and closer to her hot and now wet opening. His eyes never left hers and she smiled faintly up at him as he leaned over her, hovering above her, his hands on either side of her head.

"Hi," she said softly and he smirked.

"Hi. You okay?" He asked and she nodded, smiling, her hands gliding up to cup his cheeks, his five o'clock shadow pricking her fingertips.

"Kiss me."

Marcus gladly obeyed that order and lowered his head, his mouth meetings hers almost eagerly, fusing their lips together in a deep kiss. Hermione wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down on top of her. She loved the feel of his body pressing her into the bed, trapping her, making her his very willing prisoner. His mouth assaulted hers over and over again and she felt as if she could barely keep up. A part of her just wanted to lay back and let him take complete control but the other part of her wanted to give him just as much as he was giving her.

Hermione surprised him when she thrust her tongue into his mouth, he usually being the one to make that move first but he happily accepted her and allowed her to taste him. She moaned, her fingers moving to his back, gripping him there, keeping him pressed hard down on top of her. She felt drunk. Marcus surrounded her like a fog and she couldn't get away from any of him. Of course, getting away was the last thing she wanted. If anything, she wanted him to always be around her like that.

He moved his mouth away, dipping down, placing kisses on her throat and she tilted her chin up, giving him more room for his mouth and lips. His hands ran up and down the sides of her body as he licked and sucked and kissed her neck. Hermione gripped his back, lifting her hips, pressing them against his, feeling how hard he was. She smiled to herself in the darkness. He was hard for _her_. He wanted _her_.

"Marcus," she gasped when he sucked at the pulse point where her neck met her shoulder and she held onto him tighter. "Yes!" She cried out, surprised by her reaction but Marcus reveled in it, his hands gripping her hips tightly, pressing his body harder onto hers, sucking on her skin with more force. She moaned louder.

He lifted his head, pressing his lips to hers again, kissing her so hard, it felt as if he was literally sucking the air from her lungs. The ache between them grew, the want, the need to be as close as possible.

Still, he yanked back, breathless. "You're sure you want this?" He asked. "With me?" He added and she smiled, also trying to catch her breath.

"There is not a single doubt in my mind. I want this with you, Marcus," she said and felt her chest expand as a grin spread across his mouth. She loved when she was able to get him to genuinely grin. He looked so happy. Her hands ran down his chest and stomach, stopping at the waistband of his boxer shorts. "Take these off."

Marcus stared at her for a moment before nodding his head and pulling himself back on his knees again. Her body began to tremble slightly with anticipation at finally able to see _all_ of him and she pushed herself up on her elbows, watching him, nearly licking her lips as she watched his flawless body move in the flashes of lightning, his hands pushing his boxers down. She wished she had left the lamp on so she could see better but once he had tossed them away and he was completely naked like she was, he didn't give her the opportunity to look at him. Instead, he laid down on his stomach between her spread legs.

"It may be dark but I can feel how you're looking at me and if you keep that up, I'll be sure to burst before we even start," Marcus informed her somewhat gruffly.

Hermione laughed at that, her breathing hitching slightly, though it broke out into another soft moan as his finger skirted up between her legs. She leaned back against her elbows a bit more, spreading her legs for him and he wasted no time in tracing her intimate lips with his index finger. Her eyes closed and as he pushed the finger inside of her, he pushed his body up and kissed her – a kiss of hunger and need.

The kiss only lasted a few moments before he pulled his lips away and Hermione bit on her lower lip as she felt the rough tip of his finger brushing against every inch of her insides walls. She clenched her eyes shut when that finger was joined by his middle and ring fingers and she tilted her head back as she felt him push his three long fingers deeper into her. She could feel Marcus' fingers stretching her but it made her feel so incredibly full and tricked her into thinking that she was practically floating. She fell onto her back and her fingers gripped the bed sheets, her hips beginning to rock back and forth, riding his fingers. She knew she was moaning and crying out but she couldn't even seem to hear herself. She didn't even know how loud she was as he continued.

Marcus pushed in and out of her, taking great pleasure in the sound of Hermione's whimpers and growing harder with each passing minute. He increased his speed and force slightly, and then changed his movements, his fingers instead lifting up and down inside of her, instead of in and out, so that they pressed against her sensitive walls. The heat rose within Hermione and she moaned louder, her body flushed and now breaking out into a sweat. Her right hand let go of the bed sheets and slid down to rest on top of his and she pushed him urgently, needing to feel him fill her more. He readily and happily obliged and continued to push harder and faster into her, watching her. He was in love with watching Hermione like this. He loved doing this to her and watching what he did to her.

She had no idea how sexy she was when she was responsive like this. He could not wait to be buried deep inside her.

Marcus moved her hand aside and spread her legs a bit more to expose her drenched core to the cold air of the bedroom. He kissed Hermione sweetly, lightly, on the lips and then lowered himself to his stomach again, his mouth instantly going to her opening. Reaching out with his tongue he swirled around her clit, flicking it and sucking it, before replacing his tongue with his finger and playing with her. As his finger brushed against her clit, he swiped his tongue against her opening before plunging it into her wetness, thrashing it against her walls and reveling in her taste.

Hermione arched her back and felt as if she was about to topple over that cliff that only Marcus could bring her to. And though he was the one to push her, he would be the one to catch her.

"Marcus," she gasped. "Please. Now. I need you. Right now," she pleaded, hoping he knew what she wanted.

And he did but at the moment, he was enjoying what he was doing to her too much for him to stop. He had to get her as relaxed as possible. He hated the idea of hurting her but this was her first time and pain was unfortunately inevitable. He wasn't being cocky either. He was big boy and she was so petite compared to him. He hoped that he didn't rip her in two when he was finally inside of her.

He put his mouth on her, licking her with long swipes of his tongue. "God, you taste so good," he murmured against her sex, which was growing wetter with each lick of his tongue.

She was almost crying with pleasure. He was so rough and so passionate and driving her so quickly to the brink, she was seeing black dots in front of her eyes. It felt absolutely wonderful.

"I could eat you every day, Hermione, if you let me," he whispered, grabbing her legs and draping them over his shoulders, allowing him to move closer to her, his shoulders pressing into the back of her thighs, before he dove back in, licking and sucking on her feverishly.

One of his hands dug into her hip as he held her still as best as he could with her thrashing while the other stroked her, dipping in ever so often. She was holding onto the bed sheets so tightly, her knuckles were now white. But Marcus did not let up.

His words, his mouth, tongue and fingers… god, it was hot and it felt so dirty to be doing this – something that she had never thought of a man doing to her – but there was no part of her that wanted any of this to stop. He was bringing her closer and closer to that cliff's edge before he finally pushed her over, sucking on her clit roughly and yet, managing to bite on it gently with a nip of his teeth. She came loudly, her cries being lost to the cracks of lighting outside. She felt Marcus' tongue lapping her up and it made her shake even more.

Hermione barely felt him as he kissed his way back up her body; kisses on her stomach, her ribcage, her breasts, her collarbone and neck before kissing her cheek.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concerned when her eyes remained screwed tight and she was still panting heavily. She managed to nod her head. She couldn't believe that she could feel like that just from his mouth. She couldn't wait to feel how it would be with him actually inside her. He touched her face, his hand brushing hair back from her cheeks. He kissed her forehead and lips softly. "Hermione, where's your wand?"

"Dresser," Hermione breathed and Marcus kissed her forehead again before slipping away form her. She instantly felt cold without him but he came back a moment later, crawling back onto the bed, laying down on top of her.

He kissed her fully on the lips and Hermione slid her arms around his neck, smiling.

"We have to do a contraceptive charm," Marcus said, holding her wand up. "But… since I have a feeling that you are better at spells than I am…"

Hermione laughed, sitting up, taking her wand from him. She knew the spell, having memorized it just in case for she always liked to be prepared and she cast it perfectly before tilting her head up and pressing her lips to his. He slowly guided her down onto her back, his lips never separating from hers. She trusted him completely. She knew Marcus would never do anything to hurt her or make her uncomfortable. She was ready for this, for him. She cared for him so much already and she wanted this with no one else.

She watched as Marcus kneeled before her and he hesitantly put his hands on her ribcage. He was moving slowly, deliberately, silently letting her know that she could change her mind at any time. She smiled up at him, lifting her hand to his cheek. He locked his eyes with her and he bent down, pressing his lips to hers in a soft gentle kiss. Her hands cupped his cheeks and his hands moved from her ribcage around to the small of her back as he slowly rested his weight down on top of her. He suppressed a groan upon feeling Hermione's hard nipples graze his chest. Despite the fog slowly overtaking his brain, he didn't fail to notice just how perfectly she felt against him, underneath him. It was as if their bodies were made for each other. It amazed him considering just how different they were in height but there they were and they fit like two pieces of a puzzle.

"We don't have to do anything, Hermione," Marcus whispered, his lips barely lifting off of hers to speak. It would take a lot of strength and control on his part but he could stop if she needed them to. He was not about to push her into anything she wasn't ready for.

Hermione nodded, smiling faintly before nipping at his bottom lip. "I know," she whispered back, her hands slipping around to his back, running up and down, feeling his firm muscles flexing in her fingers' wake. She kissed him gently on the lips, slowly gaining in pressure. She loved kissing him. His taste was so utterly intoxicating to her, she felt as if she could never get enough of it. Or him. "But… I want this. I want _you_."

Marcus felt his chest swell at her declaration and he kissed her, pouring everything he had into that kiss, promising her in that kiss that he would go slow and be gentle. He would take care of her and make sure that this was something she would never be able to regret or hate.

His hands slid down to her arse and squeezed the soft skin of each globe, pulling her hips towards him. She squirmed slightly, letting him know that she was ready for him. She was more than ready for him. She was ready. She wanted to feel all of him. She wanted to give all of herself to him.

He pulled away and Marcus' eyes raked up and down her body. He looked for an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty, and was so grateful when he saw nothing but love and want. Hermione opened her arms for him and he practically dived on top of her, their lips meeting in frenzied desperate kisses. He couldn't get enough of her.

"You're shaking," she whispered, wrapping her arms tighter around him. "Are you cold?" She asked, her voice laced with concern. He shook his head. Cold was something he definitely was not. His body felt as if it was on fire. "Are you okay?"

"Okay doesn't even cover it," he whispered back and she smiled, squeezing her arms around him. "Are you ready?"

She smiled, nodding her head, the first look of nerves crossing over her face. She took a deep breath, preparing herself. She looked nowhere but into his eyes, now dark with his desire for her. He slipped a hand between their bodies and guided himself towards her opening. Slowly, he slid inside her, closing his eyes as she enveloped him, her body accepting him, wrapping around him like a hot wet glove. She shifted a little beneath him and he looked down at her, kissing her briefly on the lips, his eyes never leaving hers.

"It'll hurt for just a second, Hermione," he whispered out of breath. "I promise."

She knew it was going to hurt. There was no way around that. It was her first time but she had read plenty books on the matter. She knew what to expect. Staring up at Marcus though, she trusted him. How odd it was to go from barely even knowing him two months ago to now trusting him completely. She trusted him without reservation and staring into his eyes, she hoped her own orbs conveyed all of that.

She nodded her head and he kissed her again at the same time he thrust. Gasping against his lips, Hermione's entire body tensed. She could hear her heart pounding, almost able to hear his own heart as well, and their ragged breathing and she could feel him inside her. She could actually feel him pulsing inside of her body. She tensed just a little bit more, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt Marcus' lips on her face, brushing against her lips, her cheeks, her forehead. She could feel him shaking slightly and she knew that it must be difficult for him to remain as still as he was. She squeezed her arms around him. She tried to relax all of her muscles, especially the ones squeezing his erection. She finally opened her eyes and saw him staring down at her, his brow furrowed in concern and worry. She managed to give him a small smile, the pain already starting to fade away. It had not been as bad as she had set herself up to expect.

"You're so big," she gasped, amazed at how full she felt. He was completely inside of her, stretching her, their bodies connected in the most intimate of ways now.

Marcus couldn't help but smirk, almost laughing. "There are worse things you can say to a bloke," he joked and she smiled, one of her hands going to caress his cheek. "Does it hurt?" He asked.

She smiled, shaking her head. "Not so much. I'm just…" she shifted slightly, moaning softly as she felt him resituate inside her. "I'm getting used to it." He nodded his head and she lifted her head off the pillow, fusing her lips to his. "You can move if you want," she said and he pressed his forehead against hers for a moment, staring into her eyes.

Marcus bent down to kiss her again and then began to thrust in and out of her slowly. He stared into her eyes. His thrusts did not speed up. He pounded her with the same slow steady pace, wanting her to enjoy this and give her time to adjust to everything. Their bodies moved together, rubbing together, gliding together with perfect unison. With each thrust he felt her tight walls wrapped around his erection and she could feel her stomach tighten.

As he pushed deeper, he could feel his throbbing head slide into her tightness, her slick wetness heating around his skin. God, she was so tight. It felt incredible. The sound of Hermione moaning beneath him sent shocks through his burning body and he continued to drive into her body at a steady pace. He clutched her hips and pulled her towards him as he thrust, his head pushing deep against the back of her walls.

Hermione moaned loudly, arching her back to push him in deeper. Each time his head rammed against the back of her, she could feel sparks of pleasure running through her body. The heat left her face flushed and her toes curled. With a powerful thrust, Marcus hit a sensitive nerve hidden deep within her and she threw her head back, crying out his name loudly as he continued to plunge into her, his head ramming against the same nerves until her muscles began to give and started to quiver.

She came, squeezing so tightly around him, Marcus groaned. She called out his name over and over, her hips lifting up, matching his rhythm, her body shaking as each nerve in her body seemed to explode with pleasure. It was as if she was falling and she clung to him, not even realizing he was still thrusting into her body until the stars in front of her eyes began to fade away.

Marcus could feel her body tightening around his hardness and after several minutes he began to force her body harder up to meet his as he continued to steadily thrust.

"I'm about to come," he moaned roughly and after several thrusts, the head of his erection rammed into her tightness one last time and he felt himself release into her.

"Oh my god, Marcus," she breathed, tightening around him as she felt his body quake on top of her with his orgasm. She fell back onto the bed, her body lying limp against the mattress. "Oh my god," she repeated, the English language beyond her at the moment, and Marcus nodded in agreement, his body collapsing on top of hers.

Their skin, slick with sweat, stuck together and the scent of sex hung in the air around them. Her arms wrapped around his back, holding him to her and he rested his head in the crook of her neck. He was worried about crushing her but the way Hermione was clinging to him so tightly, it was apparent she didn't want him to move. She pressed her lips to his forehead.

Marcus lifted his head and stared down at her, putting one of his hands on her cheeks, his thumb brushing across the skin. She smiled, blushing though her skin was already flushed with the extraneous activity they had just partaken in. She couldn't believe that she had just had sex. She had just had sex with Marcus Flint. He had been so slow and gentle with her. And it had been incredible. Actually, she wasn't even sure if there were words that existed that could actually describe how it had felt for her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Marcus asked and she almost laughed, nodding her head.

"I almost think you _want_ me to be in pain," Hermione teased and he smirked. "I actually feel kind of… perfect. A little sore but it seems to be a wonderful kind of sore." She lifted her head from the pillow and kissed him firmly, shortly, on the lips. She laughed happily. "I can't explain it. I feel wonderful. Am I supposed to feel this way afterwards?"

He shrugged. "I have never been a virginal girl so I wouldn't know. I want you to feel good though."

She laughed again and he smiled, slowly moving himself off of her, laying down next to her. Hermione rolled after him and he wrapped his arms around her as she rested her head on his chest, draping her arm across his stomach.

"It's really coming down out there," he said and they both turned their heads to look out the windows, the rain pounding down so loudly now, it was almost deafening. "Do you want me to stay?"

She frowned at the question. "Of course I want you to stay. Unless…" She cleared her throat almost nervously. "Do you want to stay?"

Marcus didn't answer. Instead, he kissed her forehead and squeezed his arms around her tightly, sighing softly. He rested his head against the pillow and closed his eyes.

He was pleasantly exhausted and he felt Hermione shift next to him as she covered them with the quilts on her bed as best as she could before cuddling next to him again. Cuddling with a girl or staying after sex were definitely two things that were not his forte whatsoever and if this was anyone else, he would already be putting on his pants and heading out the door but this was Hermione. And what they had just shared was different than any other time he had spent with a girl. He hoped she knew that. Maybe he should say something.

But he had just taken her virginity. What could he say? Thank you? That hardly seemed appropriate.

"My mom killed herself during my seventh year and that's why I had to retake my N.E.W.T. exams," he said suddenly and he could feel her go completely still in his arms.

Minutes of complete silence passed between them and Marcus wondered why in the hell he had just said that. She didn't need to know that. Why the hell would he say that to her? But then Hermione lifted her head, turning to look up at him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat when he saw the way she was looking at him. It wasn't with pity like most people would have looked at him with upon hearing of his mom's suicide. She was looking at him with concern. For him. He turned his head and looked back up at the ceiling of her bedroom and he felt Hermione tighten her arm around his middle, silently asking him to continue if he wanted to.

"Dumbledore actually wanted to excuse me from the exams but my father, he let me come home for the funeral but then he sent me right back to school. I couldn't concentrate on anything though. I may not be smart but I didn't fail because I was some mindless oaf like everyone thought I was."

Hermione pressed her lips to his shoulder in a light kiss, keeping them there, her heart twisting in anguish for him in her chest and she could feel her eyes tear up. Several years may have passed but it was rather apparent that his mom's death was still a very fresh wound for him.

"You would have really liked my mom. Her family was one of old Slytherin purebloods but unlike my father, her life didn't begin and end there. She was… She is the only person in my life who has ever loved me. I was such a little piece of shite, just like my father in every way possible and my mom was terrified of my father but for some reason, she loved me."

He took a shaky breath, still not knowing why he was talking about this but it seemed as if that now that he had started, he couldn't seem to shut himself up.

"She was beautiful and such a quiet woman but I remember her laugh always being so loud." Marcus looked at her Hermione again and he moved the hand that rested on the slope of the small of her back upwards and began playing with the strands of some of her curls. "She would have liked you and how smart and beautiful you are. How good you are for me," he added in a near whisper.

Hermione smiled faintly. "I would have loved to meet her. What was her name?"

"Sarah." He paused and then shook his head slightly, almost embarrassed already for what he was about to say. "I kind of always wanted a daughter someday so I could name her after my mom."

She didn't know why but just hearing him say such a thing, she smiled widely. "You never cease to surprise me, Marcus Flint," she said softly, pulling herself up more and then lowering her lips to his in a soft gentle kiss. "Just when I think I have you figured out, you go and say something like that."

He smirked, shrugging before pulling her down into his arms for another kiss, this one deeper and harder. "What about you? What should I know about you?"

His eyes slid closed as she nibbled on his bottom lip before she began placing soft light kisses on his face, slowly moving towards his ear when she sucked on the lobe, almost making him moan. He couldn't believe what she did to him but he was already ready for round two if she was.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I think I'm falling in love with you," she whispered in his ear.

* * *

_A/N: Wow, wow, wow. Thank you so much for the reviews of the last chapter. As promised, I updated as quickly as possible and with a longer chapter. I hope everyone enjoys this one like the last update. Please review and again, I promise to update as quickly as possible. The reviews really do motivate me. Next chapter, Marcus and Hermione will enjoy their weekend together and they will find out more about one another. Drama is on the way though. Thank you for reading and reviewing. _


	10. The Need

Chapter Ten – The Need

**T**he telephone was ringing and from the sounds of it, the person on the other end wasn't going to be hanging up anytime soon. The shrill sound forced its way into their slumber and Marcus groaned tiredly, tightening his arm around Hermione's waist and burying his face in the back of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair – some type of flower though he didn't know which one.

"What the bloody hell is that?" He grumbled, still half asleep though the ringing refused to stop.

Hermione shifted next to him, lifting her head from her pillow to look at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed. It was just a little past ten o'clock. The rain had stopped sometime during the early hours of the morning but it was still overcast outside, the bedroom dim with the grey dreary weather outside.

"It's the phone," she answered, her voice scratchy with sleep. "And it's probably my mom." She tried to get out of the bed but Marcus kept his arm wound securely around her, keeping her from going anywhere. "Marcus, if I don't answer it, she'll probably just keep calling."

Marcus groaned again, wanting to remain stubborn and force her to stay in bed with him, but he loosened his arm just enough for her to wiggle away. "Why can't muggles use _quiet_ owls like normal people?" He asked, rolling onto his back, keeping his eyes firmly screwed tight, not wanting to face the morning yet. The night before had been too damn good and he didn't want to leave that behind.

Hermione smiled, picking her panties off of the floor and slipping them back on, looking at Marcus lying in her bed, the blankets having fallen down to a little below his waist, revealing every inch of his delicious muscular torso to her. He looked so handsome lying there, trying to go back to sleep. His black hair was sticking up in several direction, completely disheveled from her gripping it constantly with her fingers the night before and he had a few love bites on his neck and shoulders from her as well. She could only imagine how she looked after the treatment he had given her. She wondered if it was obvious that she was no longer a virgin.

She couldn't help herself. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips and it seemed almost immediately, he lifted his hands and cupped her head, kissing her in return. The phone continued to ring but it now sounded off in the distance. She could barely hear it now as Marcus' lips caressed hers. She smiled against his mouth, crawling back onto the bed, his arms instantly wrapping around her, hauling her body on top of his.

She shrieked with surprise when he cupped the back of her neck and suddenly rolled them over, placing her on her back. She looked up at him, laughing and he smiled, kissing her again. Grasping both of her wrists in one of his hands and pinning them above her head, he reached down with his other and moving her panties to one side, he guided his already hard erection inside of her. It was the third time that he had been inside of her and Hermione knew that she would never get tired of the feeling.

"Mmmmm, Marcus," she moaned, as he dropped his head into her neck, kissing her there as his hips slid himself in and out of her.

They couldn't seem to get enough of each other. He was still being gentle and slow and Hermione was grateful since she was still a bit sore down there but he felt so wonderful inside of her, his hips thumping against hers, his body rubbing on top of hers. He let go of her hands and she ran them up his arms, grateful that he was going slow that morning.

"Can I be on top?" She asked him suddenly, always eager to learn something new.

Marcus nearly came just from her merely asking the question and he nodded, gently rolling them over so he was now the one on his back and she was the one above him.

She had seen pictures of how she was to look on top of him and had read up on all of the different sexual positions thanks to _Kama Sutra_, but now that she actually found herself there, she had no idea what to do. She straddled him and Marcus almost smiled at the look of complete concentration on her face as she took his erection in her hand and slowly guided it towards her soaked opening again.

She slowly lowered herself, feeling him stretch her as he slid into her, inch by inch. He didn't move a muscle; she could see every part of him tense and strain under the pressure of her tightness squeezing him. Hermione winced from the new foreign position, unsure if she could close in on the base of his cock, and when her ass met his thighs, she moaned loudly.

"Fuck," Marcus gasped, his hands going to her hips.

Hermione started slowly pumping herself halfway in and out of him, daring to have his head near her entrance, ready to pop out, before she'd sank down on him again. Her slow, rhythmic pumping only lasted a few minutes though before they both started wanting more. Always more. Faster and faster, in and out, fast and hard, friction between his hard and rigid cock and her tight, wet heat.

Marcus clenched his jaw together so tightly, he could almost feel the muscles twitch in his face. His hands slid down from her hips, cupping her ass cheeks as he began to thrust upwards, hard into her. Hermione moved her own hands from his thighs to his chest for balance as he started to take over. She had no idea how amazing she looked like that. On top of him, riding him. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and he never wanted to lose this with her.

"Oh, God, Marcus!" She cried out. She couldn't stop the bursting pulse of her clit against his skin, her insides screaming to have more of him in her. Her nails raked down his chest before she could stop herself and left red lines on his skin, and her thighs bounced up and down on his hard muscular ones. Every time he thrust into her, all of her clenched around him and elicited a deep groan from his mouth.

Wanting to gain more momentum, Marcus sat up, guiding her gently onto the bed, laying her on her back again, and began to thrust harder, his hands gripping her hips tightly. Hermione started to feel her body begin to quake and she knew what that meant. She wrapped her arms around his arms and arched her back, crying out, crying for him, crying for more. He didn't stop. She climaxed even as he continued to pound her hard, and even when she was finished shaking with her orgasm and her insides were sensitive, he just pounded her more and more. He seemed unable to stop and she didn't want him to. Everything tingled within her.

He didn't stop. He pulled her arms over his shoulders as he lifted her onto his lap, impaling her. The sweat running down their bodies made the slap of her thighs against his louder.

She hugged him and breathed moans into his ear. "Marcus… yes. More. Please."

"Fuck," he groaned again and both from her panting in his ear and her body wrapped around his, he came hard, emptying himself inside of her, collapsing onto his back, Hermione falling on top of him. His arms remained around her though, not wanting to let her go. They both were breathing heavily and sweaty and Marcus could actually feel how happy he was in that moment. He kissed her forehead. "Wow."

She laughed softly, tiredly, resting her forehead against his jaw line. "That's one way to describe it." She looked at him, putting a hand on his forehead, wiping at the sweat there, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Is it always like this?"

"No," he said, shaking his head, still gasping for air. "Definitely not. I don't think it's ever been this way for me before. I don't know what it is but I always want you."

She couldn't help but smile happily and kiss his cheek, her lips lingering on his skin. She was so relived that she seemed to be good at having sex. She was Hermione Granger and was not used to failure. If she had been bad, she would have just insisted to Marcus that she keep practicing. Of course, if though she was good, she still wanted to get better. She had a feeling he wouldn't mind if she wanted to practice more with him.

"I should go call my mom. I talk with her every Saturday and if I don't call, she'll start to really worry and she might… she might even come over here to check on me and I don't want her to meet you like this," Hermione said, slipping away from him and sitting up, her eyes scanning the room, looking for her shirt. Why did she always seem to lose at least one article of her clothing whenever around Marcus?

Marcus lifted his head to look at her, frowning slightly. "You want me to meet your mom?" He asked.

Hermione instantly sensed the shift of mood in the bedroom. Marcus did not meet parents of girls he was screwing. Marcus did not put himself in relationships or commitments or anything that resembled it. And though he had asked her out on a date, they had yet to go out on one. She had told him that she was falling in love with him and he hadn't said anything. He had pretended that he hadn't even heard her. She had gone into this with eyes open. She hadn't been expecting declarations of love or marriage proposals. But then he had opened up to her about his mother and she thought that maybe, she would be the girl he would be different for.

If his silent panic attack at just the mention of her mother was any indication though, Hermione could see how mistaken she had been to think that. Ginny, Luna and Pansy had all told her that Marcus had sex with girls and then never saw them again and though most of the time, she knew that she was different than those girls before her in Marcus' life, she suddenly felt very much like one.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Marcus," Hermione informed him firmly, staring at him, watching him closely for his further reaction. "I just thought that maybe, one day, you could. If you wanted to."

Marcus could feel his heart pounding and the blood roaring in his ears as he almost immediately reverted back to his old ways. What was expected of him? To change overnight? He did not meet girls' parents. Hell, spending the night last night had been a huge step for him. He had thought Hermione had known that. He needed to take this one step at a time and her talking about love and parents were only making him feel claustrophobic. He had to get out of there for a little bit; away from her naked body and intoxicating smell.

"Are you going to be around here today?" Marcus asked, sitting up, scooting towards the edge of the bed and swinging his legs over the side.

"Are you leaving?" Hermione asked, frowning, feeling slightly panicked.

He sighed, grabbing his boxers and pulling them on, trying to avoid her eyes. He couldn't though and he turned to look at her, sitting in the middle of the bed, wearing nothing but her panties and staring up at him, a hurt expression across her face. His gut twisted a bit tighter.

She stared at him and then sighed softly, nodding her head. "I shouldn't be surprised. I knew about all of the other girls and you told me yourself that you only shagged a girl's brains out before leaving. You never kept that a secret from me. You and Adrian and Blaise have… certain reputations to uphold, I suppose."

"Hermione-"

"I suppose I should be happy that you stayed the night instead of leaving right after the first time," she continued, seeming to not even hear him anymore. He was convinced he stopped breathing when he saw tears beginning to glass over her eyes. She crossed her arms over her breasts, hiding herself from him. She looked at him, squaring her shoulders, straightening her spine.

"I'm sorry for mentioning my mother to you and making you think that this is becoming some sort of relationship between us. I have a good relationship with my mother and I thought that maybe, _some day_, you would want to meet her as my friend or… whatever you deem acceptable to call yourself. Apparently, I was horribly wrong. About a lot of things," she added and then without another word or glance, she removed herself from the bed and stalked into the bathroom, Marcus flinching when she slammed the door behind her.

Marcus sighed heavily, rubbing his hands roughly through his hair. Well, he had screwed that up. That had to be some type of record for him. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this low. He hated the idea that heroine could think those things about him. He knew what kind of guy he was and what his reputation informed others of. But he didn't mean to be that around her. Never her. Hermione made him feel different. She made him _want_ to be different.

"Hermione?" He said, knocking on the bathroom door hesitantly. He took the doorknob in his hand and he was surprised when he found it to be unlocked. He slowly pushed it open, half-expecting her to throw something at his head but when he slid inside, he found her sitting on the edge of the bathtub, taking deep breaths.

"Look at me!" She exclaimed. "I am holed up in my bathroom, crying over a man! I hate girls like me! This is exactly what Lavender and Parvati used to do at school and I swore to myself that I would never do this but here I am." She began laughing slightly, shaking her head and wiping at her wet cheeks.

Marcus crouched down in front of her and lightly rested his hands on her thighs. She still wore nothing except her panties and he saw goose bumps on her skin from the coolness of the bathroom. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, squeezing her legs gently, staring into her face. "I can be a right prat sometimes."

She looked at him, still wiping her cheeks. "That's the nicest thing you could call yourself right now."

He smirked and sat himself next to her on the edge of the tub, his arm slipping around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "I really am sorry," he said in a softer volume and she turned her head to meet his eyes. "Believe it or not, I am trying here. I just don't know what I'm doing."

"And I do?" She questioned and then lifted a hand to his cheek, pulling his forehead down to rest against hers. "I just don't want… I want us to have something, Marcus. And I'm sorry if that makes you hyperventilate or make a bolt for the door but that's how I feel." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I want you."

Marcus stared at her. He couldn't believe that he was having this conversation with a practically naked Hermione Granger in her loo after shagging her for most of the night and morning. No, he instantly corrected himself. What they did, shagging wasn't the proper word to use to describe it. It had been a lot more than shagging and he had to start getting used to that.

He was terrified, naturally. A leopard couldn't change its spots to stripes in one day. But he did know that he wanted to try to have something with her. She was worth at least an effort on his part.

"How long will it take you to get yourself ready?" He asked her.

"For what?" She sniffled and he couldn't help but smile. Even crying, she looked absolutely stunning and he was already aching to have her in bed again.

"I'm going to take you out to breakfast," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But lets go somewhere in London."

"Muggle London? You want to go to muggle London?" She asked, a hint of disbelief in her tone as she stared at him.

He smirked, shrugging. "True. The last time I went there, I became a cop," he smiled when she laughed softly. "But I want to try somewhere new with you today."

That was the truth. This was a special day between him and Hermione. It was the start of something possibly great between them and he wanted to take her somewhere they had never been together. That and also, in muggle London, he knew that neither his father or anyone he associated with would dare converse amongst muggles willingly. If Marcus and Hermione stayed in the city, odds were the Michael wouldn't find out about them and Marcus wanted it that way.

Hermione nodded, understanding that he probably didn't want to go to Diagon Alley where they would probably have their picture taken again. She smiled faintly, staring into his eyes. It scared her – this pull she felt towards him. She had given herself to him without hesitation or reservation and in the light of the day, she still didn't regret it. She knew that she wouldn't anytime soon either. She meant everything she had said. She was falling in love with him. She wasn't sure when it had happened or what he had done that had suddenly made her feel that way about him but there it was – settled in her heart like a stone that was slowly growing heavier.

She was surprised she understood the feeling. It wasn't as if she had ever been in love before. Everything she was experiencing with Marcus was completely fresh and new to her and she couldn't get enough of it. It made her feel absolutely wonderful – like there couldn't possibly be a person as happy as she was when she was with him.

She couldn't believe that she felt this way for him, Marcus Flint. She thought back to second year of school when she had had her run-in with the Slytherin Quidditch team and Ron had wound up throwing up slugs for her. Never, in a million years, did Hermione ever look at Marcus and think that he would be the boy she would someday grow up to love. In fact, she could hardly remember a time at school when she actually had looked at him.

Things had been so different when they were all children. But now, divisions of houses no longer meant anything. The uprising of Voldemort and the war following had changed nearly everything in the wizarding world and now, here Hermione sat, after having just spent a passionate night with Marcus Flint. And she wanted it to happen again and again.

He was a gruff man, of course. That was rather apparent to anyone who met him. And he was very rough of around the edges. He didn't put up with nonsense from people. He knew what he wanted and he got it – that pureblood superiority mentality shining through now and again. It had surprised all of her friends when they had found out that she and Marcus had been seeing so much time together but Hermione didn't understand their confusion. Yes, they were different but what was that saying?

Opposites attract.

His powerfully-built body, strong and rough hands, constant steel expression and silence seemed as if it were the perfect compliment to Hermione's small petite body, her womanly beauty, her active intelligence that left her chattering for hours. They matched so well together in her mind that she couldn't believe it had taken her so long to see it.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Marcus said, taking her silence to mean that she was still upset about his instant reverting back to panic mode when she spoke of her mother.

She shook her head slightly, smiling, pushing her forehead back against his. "I understand, believe it or not. I know…" She took a breath. "I know both of us are new at this and we are bound to say things that we don't understand."

Marcus smiled faintly at that and slid a hand on her cheek, kissing her lightly on the lips. "Why did you choose to have this with me?" He asked her suddenly, staring at her, his voice laced with an uncertainty that he knew only he could ear. She didn't know his tones well enough yet to decipher them.

She smiled in return. "Because of this. Right here," she said softly and Marcus could actually see happiness in her eyes. That same expression was on her face that had been when the picture in the _Prophet _had been taken. He wondered if he would ever get used to being the cause of such a look. "Because you don't realize you're doing it but you look at me like I am the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. And the way you hold me… you make me feel safe. And you show this side of yourself to me that I know you never show anyone else. I feel special whenever I'm with you."

Marcus stared at her before cupping the back of her head and kissing her fully on the mouth, wrapping his other arm around her waist, pressing their bodies together. He wanted to tell her more about himself – about the money, about his father, about how he shouldn't even be with her. He couldn't stay away from her though. She was utterly addicting and the more time he spend with her, the more time he wanted.

He made her feel special? Well, she had the same exact effect on him. She made him delusional enough to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was the slim chance that he was actually worth her time.

As he continued kissing her on the edge of the bathtub in her bathroom, he knew he should have told her everything. But he couldn't. When he told her that he needed to get married in order to get his money, but he could never be with someone like her, he knew that he would lose her forever. And Marcus Flint was a selfish man. He knew that. Because the last thing he wanted was to lose her. He would do whatever he could to hold onto her – including keeping secrets from her and lying to everyone else about her.

He was a git but he wanted that money as much as he wanted her.

* * *

_A/N: This chapter was meant to be longer but I have edited the storyline to hopefully make readers happy. The last chapter with the sex scene seemed to be enjoyed by only a few so after this chapter, I will tone it down and focus on the growing drama between Marcus and Michael and the growing relationship between Marcus and Hermione. Please read and review for me. I really would appreciate it since it does motivate me. Thank you. _


	11. The Talk

Chapter Eleven – The Talk

**"I**t was… absolutely perfect," Hermione finally decided on, smiling faintly to herself, a slight blush on her cheeks as she even thought about it. "I have read so many books on the subject but then, when it was really happening to me, it wasn't like anything I had ever experienced. He was so slow and gentle and he kept asking me if I was alright and if I was sure and… _he_ was perfect."

Luna smiled as she listened to Hermione, trying to remember the last time she had heard her friend sound so happy. Ron had invited Hermione over to his and Luna's home after work for dinner and as he was sent outside to chase some of those blasted gnomes out of their gardens in the backyard, Luna and Hermione were in the kitchen, Luna cooking and Hermione setting the table. Ron had even showed the initiative in getting to know Marcus better and had invited him along as well but Marcus and Blaise had to work late so Hermione had showed up alone.

It was Thursday, fours days since the end of the most wonderful weekend in Hermione's life, in her opinion. She and Marcus had spent most of it in bed, getting up to only eat and relieve themselves in the bathroom. They had talked and made love for hours and Hermione had never wanted any of it to ever end. She was scared that when they left her flat and reentered the real world once again, things would change suddenly between them. But Marcus had proven her wrong when he had come to get her for lunch that past Monday and had hugged her and kissed her square on the mouth passionately.

Hermione hadn't told her friends about what had transgressed between her and Marcus that weekend. It wasn't any of their business anyway. Even though she told them practically everything, this was one thing that she wanted to keep to herself. She knew Marcus wouldn't talk about it to anyone. Gossiping and divulging people of his private life wasn't exactly his forte.

Luna though, Hermione knew that she could tell Luna without her telling anyone else. Pansy would tell Harry who would then tell Ron. Or Ginny would tell Draco who would tell Adrian and Blaise. But with Luna, Hermione could trust her to keep her secret. And she had been bursting at the seams to tell someone about what had happened that weekend. She was so happy and she wanted to share it with someone other than Marcus who wasn't one on showing his happiness anyway.

"You look happy," Luna smiled at her friend as the smile seemed permanently attached to Hermione's face.

Hermione nodded. "I am."

And she was. She knew that she had never been this happy before. It almost didn't feel real. A part of her was terrified that it wasn't. It wasn't normal to be _this _happy without something horrible to counter it. She could almost feel herself bracing for it – for something to happen to change everything drastically and without notice. She hadn't wanted to ask Marcus if he was happy. She would feel silly asking him that. There were just some questions that she knew Marcus wouldn't answer.

"Have you fallen in love with him?" Luna asked.

"Yes."

Hermione gasped when the answer fell from her mouth without hesitation and she gaped at Luna, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide. Luna couldn't help but laugh softly and Hermione shook her head slightly, taking a step towards her but then stopping herself. She knew she had been falling in love with him but to be completely and truly in love with him – the falling part over with – Hermione was shocked. She hadn't even realized that it had happened. When had it happened?

Last time she checked, she was _falling._ Not landing.

"I remember when I realized I had fallen in love with Ron," Luna said, her usual dreamy far-off smile on her face. "He had gone off somewhere on one of his auror missions and as pathetic and co-dependent as it sounds, he was gone for a week and I felt as if I could barely breathe." Her eyes gazed out the window above the sink, watching Ron in the garden. "And then, when he came back… he didn't come home to _me_. He was still sharing that flat with Harry and he went straight there to rest. I didn't want him to come home to anything but me and that was when… I knew I loved him."

Hermione smiled faintly as Luna spoke and she wondered what she would tell people when they asked when she had known she had fallen in love with Marcus because right then, she was still reeling with confusion that it had happened completely.

The back door opened and Ron entered the kitchen, tugging his homemade Weasley jumper off from over his head and wiping at the dirt streaked across his cheek.

"Bloody gnomes," he muttered to himself, stalking over to the sink to wash his hands. A few more colorful words in his vocabulary escaped past his lips in angry torrents and Hermione almost laughed. Ron always did have a certain skill for swearing and stringing the most creative words together. "Luna, love, we need to get a dog. Or a cat. Or both."

Luna smiled, watching him, and then slipped behind him, sliding her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek between his shoulder blades.

Hermione watched two of her closest friends, the sweet scene unfolding as Ron covered Luna's hands with hers and she squeezed her arms around him. They both were smiling and Hermione could feel their love for one another drifting from their bodies, seeping further into the kitchen and surrounding her with it.

She doubted she and Marcus would ever be affectionate like that with one another when someone was watching. Marcus would never openly display his feelings for her in public. And while she agreed that it wasn't anyone's business as to what the extent of their relationship was, she honestly couldn't even imagine him pecking her on the lips if one of their friends was in the same vicinity.

She supposed it was different for Ron and Luna since they were married but Hermione couldn't help but watch them as the three sat down at the table to eat their supper and wish she had what they did. They were complete opposites in seemingly every way in their life but it worked for them. Their differences only seemed to make their love, and marriage, stronger. She wondered if being so different than Marcus would help them or hurt them. She wondered how long this with Marcus would last. They still had not defined what they were. They spent as much time together as possible and now had sex – and Hermione was completely and irrevocably in love with him – but she had no idea still how he felt for her.

She knew it was silly to wonder how he felt. She knew he cared for her and liked her. He was a completely different man when she was the only one around to see. He was sweet and gentle with her. He took his time with her, made sure his hands touched every inch of her followed by his lips. He loved seeing her and memorizing her. When she talked to him, she knew that he was really listening to her and at night, when he thought she was asleep, he would hold her so tightly, it was almost hard for her to breathe but she never complained.

Somehow, she knew that he needed someone to hold onto and she would gladly be that person for him. She just wished that he would talk to her about things in his life – what he was thinking, what he was feeling. She wanted to know everything about him and though he had told her a few select things she knew he hadn't anyone else, she only wanted more. She was selfish, she supposed. She wanted everything that was him for herself.

"Well, he's not Viktor so he has that going for him," Ron commented later that evening, his stomach pleasantly full from the hearty supper. Luna had left the longtime best friends alone and now he and Hermione sat outside in the cold fall night on the front porch swing. "And you seem to fancy him quite a bit so I guess you must see something in him."

Hermione smiled faintly, As much as she complained about it, Ron and Harry's protectiveness always touched her. They cared so much about her and she knew that she was extremely lucky to have both of them – her boys – in her life.

"I love him, Ron."

Ron's mouth fell open much like it had when Hermione had realized her feelings just a few hours earlier in the kitchen. He stared at her wordlessly for a few moments and then shook his head. "Love? That… that's sudden."

She nodded. "Yes. Sudden but right. I have never felt this before for another man. Every time I am with Marcus, or even just thinking about him, it feels wonderfully right. Like all of this was meant to happen."

"Marcus Flint," Ron said softly to himself, still shaking his head slightly. "I never would have thought-"

"And you thought that Ginny and Draco would ever be together?" Hermione asked.

Ron looked at her and she smiled, making him smirk. "Touché." He paused then scratched one of his cheeks. He was beginning to grow a beard. "You're happy then? With him?"

"Very," she responded without hesitance, a soft smile on her face.

He was silent another moment and then sighed softly, nodding his head. "At least he isn't Viktor. Or Adrian. He's a bit perverted, friend or not."

Hermione laughed, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Ron."

He patted her on the back, smiling. "Just know that if he hurts you, both of his legs will wind up mysteriously broken."

She laughed again. "Thank you, Ron," she repeated. "But Marcus won't hurt me."

"He better not," Ron grumbled. "But… you are usually right so…"

"I will be about this as well. You don't know him like I do."

Ron cleared his throat, almost nervously, and shifted on the bench, glancing at her. "I hope you don't mean like… knowing him in the biblical sense."

Hermione couldn't help it. She burst out laughing then stood up, smoothing the invisible wrinkles in the gray slacks she had worn to work that day. "Good night, Ron. I'm going to go talk to Luna."

With that, leaving Ron on the porch as he tried to shake the mental image of Hermione having sex with any bloke, Hermione went back inside the warm cozy cottage, finding Luna sitting in the back sunroom, curled up in a chair, reading a book. The television in the corner was on but it was muted and the room was silent. Hermione sat down in the other overstuffed chair next to her, removing her black high heels and tucking her feet underneath herself.

"After the war, and we were all trying to find our niches, I almost married Viktor because I was so terrified that I wouldn't find mine," Hermione admitted suddenly.

Luna didn't say anything. She simply closed her book, her finger holding her place.

"I knew I didn't love him but I was so afraid that I wouldn't find anyone. That the war had already taken up so much of my life, I was worried that if I didn't do everything as quickly as possible, I would never get another chance," Hermione said, staring at the television, not really watching it. "I have always wanted to fall in love and get married and have a family but I was so convinced I didn't have the time…"

Hermione took a deep breath, resting her head against the back of the chair, blinking her eyes upwards towards the ceiling.

"I'm glad you didn't marry Viktor," Luna finally said softly. "The way you were just smiling in the kitchen when you talked about being with Marcus… I have never seen that look on your face before."

Hermione nodded, her eyes brimming with tears though she wasn't sure why. "I just want to be happy. Like you and Ron and Harry and Pansy. I want… I want what you all have."

"You do," Luna insisted, still talking gently, softly. She leaned over and took Hermione's hand in hers, squeezing it. "Marcus would be the biggest git if he didn't see what he has with you."

Hermione laughed softly, wiping at her cheeks with her free hand. "You've been married to Ron for so long. You're starting to sound like him."

* * *

**T**heir bodies were lying in his bed in a mass of tangled limbs, beads of sweat dewing their skin and their chests rising and falling rapidly as they both tried to catch their breath. His fingers were tangled in her heavy damp locks and his lips seemed to be incapable of pulling away from her – always brushing against or kissing random pieces of her skin. Hermione closed her eyes, smiling tiredly, faintly, her hands on his back as his lips assaulted the side of her neck slowly and sensually, leaving a mark – one that she would have to cover up later so no one but her would see it.

Hermione felt her body slipping away, losing herself to his touch, letting it completely take her over. His lips, his hands, his hard body pressed against hers, his rough cheeks scratching at her skin. She loved the way Marcus seemed to worship her body even after both seemed incapable of moving from their strenuous lovemaking.

"I think we christened your bed in fantastic fashion," Hermione said softly and Marcus laughed before latching his lips on her shoulder, sucking gently there.

"I blame you entirely for what transpired here this evening," he said.

She laughed, rolling them over so he was on his back and she was splayed out on top of his chest. She rested her chin on his and she smiled when his hands smoothed down her back to cup her bottom. "_You_ were the one who started undressing me the instant I walked through your door."

"_You_ know I am completely incapable of refusing you," he fired back with a tired smile, his eyes closing as he relished in her naked warm body on top of his.

Hermione kissed a small scar on the underside of his chin. "How was work today?"

He didn't answer, instead, occupying himself by massaging her arse in his hands, the flesh soft and lovely. Her lips were the ones now attached to him as she explored his throat and jaw line, not that he was complaining in the least for having handed the control over to her.

"Busy," he finally responded as she licked a patch of skin, salty with sweat, near his ear. He nearly shivered and tightened his hands on her. "How was supper with Luna and Weasley?"

"It was fine," she answered, scooting herself a bit further up his body so she could kiss him on the lips, a move he eagerly welcomed. Her tongue dived between the seam of his lips, tasting the deep crevices of his mouth and he was shocked when he heard himself moaning. He normally was not the one to moan during kisses. "I wish you could have been there though," she added before dropping her mouth to his again, this kiss harder and hungrier.

Marcus loved the way Hermione kissed him. The first ones were always soft, hesitant, almost scared that she was going to be doing something wrong. But then, her confidence would grow steadily and she would become certain with every move her lips made. Her hands would either cup his cheeks or either side of his neck or rest on his shoulders and he always let her take the lead whenever she had the courage to kiss him first. He knew that Hermione needed to take her time and he let her taste and feel every inch of his lips and mouth if that was what she wanted.

Girls before Hermione that he had been with, kisses shared between them had been wet and sloppy – hardly any focus ever put into it. And most times, the girls' mouths had tasted of fire whiskey or some other type of alcohol.

No matter what she had eaten or drank though before kissing him, to Marcus, Hermione always tasted sweet – like peaches and innocence. She was the best damn thing he had ever tasted and he knew that he was already addicted to everything about her. Her hands, her eyes, her smile and laugh, her freckles, her hair, her lips and the way she used them on him.

That day, he and Blaise had been slammed with a robbery case in Hogsmeade when both had arrived at the office at eight a.m. and they had worked it through until they had solved it nearly thirteen hours later. It had been a long and hard day but it had been successful which always meant that a celebratory drink at the pub was in order. For the first time however, Marcus had refused and had sent Hermione an owl before he had left the office, asking her to meet him at his flat. He had needed to see her and touch her and just be around her so badly, his body nearly ached for her.

She was right. The instant he heard her knocking and he swung open the door, he had yanked her into his flat, kissing her deeply and starting to pull her clothes off. He was barely able to get them very far inside before they were both stripped naked and he was slipping inside of her, thumping against her at first in the hallway and then against the doorjamb of the room before dropping both of them onto the bed, never leaving her tight warm body. He loved her fast and hard and she encouraged it, moaning loudly with pleasure, lifting her hips up and down to match his thrusts.

Despite how exhausted his body was from the long day he had had, he couldn't stop when it came to Hermione. Her utterly addicting being wouldn't let him and when they were done with round one, he got them glasses of water before starting on round two. This time, he had them try a new position. Hermione was always so eager to learn something new – especially when it came to sex – and Marcus was only too happy to show her everything she was curious about.

He had guided her on her hands and knees and he had gotten behind her, guiding himself into her that way. When she had moaned how full he made her feel, he almost came prematurely just from her words. He controlled himself quickly though and started a slow and steady pace as she adjusted to the new position, his hands running all over her back and bottom then reaching over to cup her breasts.

And then, afterwards, he did something that he only ever did with Hermione. He cuddled with her, tangling his body with hers, kissing her, touching her, enjoying the pleasant afterglow that came when one had sex. It seemed he was always doing things around her that he normally wouldn't even _think_ of doing.

Hermione ended her kisses much too soon in his opinion and rested her head on his shoulder. Marcus wrapped his arms around her, not allowing her to slip from off of him, and they laid like that for neither knew how long. It didn't matter though. She was spending the night without it needing to be discussed.

Her fingers traced the spot on his bicep where she knew his tattoo was. She was always fascinated with the tattoo, of how he had been to Morocco when he had gotten it, how the tattoo on him was one of the sexiest things she had ever seen. She felt his fingers toy with the strands of her hair. He was fascinated with her hair like she was with his tattoo. He was always playing with it or burying his hands in it when he kissed her or smelling it when they laid in bed on the verge of sleep – like now. His nose was pressed to the top of her head and his fingers were playing with the curls. She closed her eyes, smiling faintly to herself. Her heart pounded in her chest heavily and she could feel how much love she had towards him in that moment. It threatened to swallow her completely whole.

She wondered if he could feel it. Would it scare him if he could?

"Marcus?" She asked, her voice was barely a whisper and yet it sounded like a trumpet in the complete silence in the room. He didn't respond but she knew he was listening. She tilted her head slightly back so she could look at his profile as he continued playing with her hair, his head on the pillow, his eyes focused on the ceiling. "Can we talk?"

As was his habit whenever a member of the female gender suggested such a thing, he stiffened. "About?" He asked, treading carefully, his walls instantly going up in front of her, blocking her out, preparing to make her words unable to penetrate him.

She shrugged. "Whatever you want," she said, tilting her head back more so she could see more of his face. A slab of blank stone. Just like she had been expecting it to be. "What's your favorite book?"

He smirked at that, shaking his head slightly. "That's the most pressing question on your mind about me? Out of everything you could have possibly asked?" He was secretly relieved that that was the question she wanted to start with.

She smiled, nudging his jaw with her nose. "You _do _have a favorite book, don't you?"

"If I don't, you're ending this between us, aren't you?" He joked, a rare thing from him and she laughed, the fingers tracing his tattoo stopping to grip that bicep. He sighed. "_The Art of War_," was all he said with no further explanation.

Hermione had not been expecting him to answer the question with a book written by a Muggle and she stared at him, imploring him silently with her eyes to talk more.

"Winning is the only thing that has ever mattered to my father," Marcus said, still cryptic, still revealing as little as possible. He sighed again, still feeling her eyes set on his face. "My mom loved muggle things – kind of like Mr. Weasley does – but she had to keep it a secret from my father who probably would have killed her if he ever found out. She had this chest in the attic filled with muggle things she had collected over the years and one of those things was a copy of _The Art of War_. She gave it to me when I turned thirteen, thinking that I might learn something from it."

"And did you?" Hermione dared to ask though she could feel the bitterness and anger now tensing his entire body just at the mere mention of his father. She hadn't wanted it like this. She had wanted to ask him questions to get to know him, not to upset or piss him off.

"I learned that killing my father while he slept in cold blood wouldn't be exactly… strategic," he said then fell silent. The fingers playing with her hair had stilled and he was completely stiff now. But when Hermione even dared to slide an inch off of him, he stopped her, wrapping both arms around her, keeping her on top of him.

"What's your favorite food?" Hermione asked, wanting to desperately get his thoughts away from his father.

"Sheppard's Pie," he responds without hesitancy and all tension and anger drained from his body in a great wave. She silently breathed in relief to herself before kissing his cheek. His fingers began playing with her hair again. "And what's your favorite book and or food?" He asked.

She smiled and his hand trailed from the small of her back where it had been playing with her hair to drape over her hip, drawing random patterns on her stomach. She shivered and snuggled deeper into the hard muscles of his body.

"_The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ and anything Thai."

"We should do that," he said thoughtfully, his finger now circling her belly button.

"What?" She asked, wondering how she had suddenly gotten lost in a seemingly simple conversation.

He smirked. "We should go get some Thai. Tomorrow night," he said. "I still owe you a date."

"That's true," Hermione said seriously with a nod of her head. "I did give you my virginity after all. The least you could do is feed me." She laughed and he tightened his arms around her, rolling her over onto her back, placing him on top of her.

"Well… you feed me enough. I suppose I should return the favor," he said, staring intently in her eyes, his almost black now with desire, and she blushed when he reached between her legs to touch her. Just his innuendo had made her wet and he felt her gently with his fingers. He assumed she was sore and he was right. Still, his fingers worked slowly and it felt wonderful.

She chewed on her bottom lip, forcing herself to keep her eyes open and staring at him. He eased a finger inside of her and she moaned softly, feeling herself tightening around him, growing wetter, hotter, her desire spiking to unfathomable degrees.

"Will you go out with me tomorrow night?" He asked her, staring down into her eyes. It should have felt weird – them talking with his hand between her legs, his finger inside her body but the conversation was normal except her soft moans and panting.

"To a real restaurant?" She asked, her stomach clenching as he added another finger inside of her, working both in and out at a slow, steady and gentle pace.

"As opposed to a fake one," he countered back, amazed that he had made another joke.

She laughed at that, her hands gliding onto his shoulders, holding onto him. "Will you pick me up at my flat like a gentleman?"

"Yes, but I can already guarantee you that I won't be a gentleman when it's time to drop you back home," Marcus promised and she smiled, shaking her head slightly.

"Good," she managed to say breathlessly before she moaned and he covered his mouth with hers in a deep, passionate kiss, beginning round three.


	12. The Truth

Chapter Twelve – The Truth

**H**ermione hated to admit it but she had absolutely no idea what to wear that night and she only had one more hour until Marcus came to pick her up for their date.

She stood in front of her open closet, wearing nothing but white knickers and a bra, with her hands on her hips and her head tilted slightly to the side as she looked at the outfits that were offered to her. She knew she was going to wear a dress. She just didn't know which one and she didn't want to ask any of her girlfriends to come over and help her. They would only wind up overwhelming her with their excitement that she was going out on a date with Marcus. She loved them dearly but stressing her out more than she already was wasn't something she wanted to happen to her at the moment.

She didn't know why she was feeling so nervous. This was Marcus. There was no reason whatsoever to be nervous when it came to him. He was the one person she could always feel comfortable around no matter what. He had already seen her naked for goodness sakes. It wasn't as if she was nervous about making love with him at the end of the night – which she knew would definitely happen.

Perhaps she was feeling nervous because she hadn't been out on a first date in such a long time and this was the first time she had gone out on one with a man she loved. She wanted this night to be absolutely perfect. She wanted to always remember it. Just thinking about it was making her smile widely despite the flapping of butterflies in her stomach.

She turned and stared at herself in the full-length mirror and an idea dawned on her. Marcus would definitely be pleasantly surprised and, Hermione hoped, extremely aroused. She took of her white underwear and slipped on a dark green bra with matching lace knickers. Ginny had gone lingerie shopping earlier that week since her breasts were growing larger with the pregnancy and Hermione had accompanied her, spotting the green set as soon as she walked into the store. It wasn't usually her style – too revealing and lacy and low cut but she knew that Marcus would appreciate it. Ginny informed her that lingerie like that was intended more for the male in a woman's life than for the woman herself.

Smiling, she looked at her reflection in the mirror again. She could only imagine how Marcus would look when he saw her wearing this for him. He admitted that he loved seeing the Gryffindor Princess in green, which had made her roll her eyes and smack him in the chest, but he had only smirked and said that she had no idea how much it turned him on. She had blushed at that. She loved having that sort of hold on him.

She had never felt truly beautiful before. Living with Lavender and Parvati and suffering through their obsession with the opposite sex, she had been all too eager to spend as much time as possible with Harry and Ron. But then, as they grew older, she saw how many appreciative glances and blatant stares from the boys at Hogwarts that her roommates received. Hermione knew that no boy had ever looked at her like that.

Not until Marcus.

She had meant what she had told him in her bathroom the weekend before. When he looked at her, she truly felt as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. When they were in bed together, he acted as if her body was a temple and he was there to worship her. There wasn't one part of her body that went untouched by him. He was fascinated with every inch, every freckle, every beauty mark and scars. There had been a few times when Hermione would wake up and find him next to her, having never gone to sleep, instead watching her and touching her.

Sometimes, she got the feeling that whenever he stared at her or ran his hands over her, it was as if he was afraid that if he didn't have some sort of contact with her, she would disappear.

She didn't know how to tell him that she wasn't going anywhere. She didn't even know if he wanted her to stay most of the time. She knew that she wasn't just some girl to him. If she was, he never would have spent the night after taking her virginity and he wouldn't come over to her flat or invite her over to his. He would have been over and done with her after their first time. But even though she knew that she just wasn't one of the many to him, she still had no idea as to what they were or what he wanted them to be.

Perhaps she could approach that topic of conversation that night during their date.

After giving herself one more appraisal in the mirror and deciding that buying the dark green lingerie set had been the best purchase she had ever made, she went back to her closet, humming to herself as she began searching through her dresses again. She could not wait for him to arrive. Nervous excitement. That's what it was. The anticipation of the night to come grew steadily within her and she was practically bouncing on her toes as she carefully took a black dress down. Simple and elegant.

She had taken a shower as soon as she had come home from work so she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and dry her hair – leaving it down as was the way Marcus preferred it to be – before slipping the dress on, the soft cotton smooth against her freshly shaved legs. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror reflection, smiling at herself. She knew that she could wear a burlap sack and Marcus would stare at her but she still wanted to put forth the effort of looking perfect.

The knock on her door came promptly at seven o'clock as promised and forgoing shoes at the moment, Hermione eagerly went to go let him in.

"Mar… Ginny?" Hermione said, frowning, confused as she opened the front door to her petite red-headed friend rather than her dark-haired… boyfriend? Lover? Companion? Friend whom she slept with? It bothered her that she still had no idea what to refer Marcus as.

"So, I finally told my parents," Ginny said, storming into the flat, a cloud of fury hanging over her head.

Hermione knew what she was talking about. There was only one thing Ginny could possibly be talking about when it came to discussing with her family. She closed the door and watched as Ginny began pacing the length of her living room. She couldn't help but look at the clock on the fireplace mantel. Marcus was going to be there any moment but it looked as if Ginny wasn't planning on going anywhere – not until she was done venting at least and sometimes, a Ginny Weasley rant session could last for hours. Normally, Hermione didn't mind and would lend her ear like the good friend that she was but that night, she couldn't do it that night.

Marcus was coming. She was going out on a date with Marcus, who would be there shortly. She didn't want anything to come between that. She hated that she was putting a guy in front of her close friend who obviously needed someone to talk to but… this was Marcus. He wasn't just some guy.

"My father can't believe that I would do… oh, I don't know. Have sex with my boyfriend whom I love and live with. And my mother," Ginny laughed, crossing her arms over her chest, shaking her head. "She's already planning the wedding because what would people think if Draco and I had the baby while we weren't married?"

"Do you want some water?" Hermione offered, glancing at the clock again, taking a step towards the kitchen.

"I would love a strong drink but… water would be fine," Ginny sighed, turning and collapsing on the couch, her hands resting on her protruding belly. There was no need for her to wear baggy jumpers and sweatshirts anymore now that her parents knew. Finally. And they had reacted how everyone had expected them to.

Hermione went into the small kitchen, taking a glass down from the cabinet and filling it with water from the sink tap. She was growing anxious. Where was Marcus? He was late. Surprisingly, he usually was one for punctuality. He came into her office every day at exactly noon for lunch and she could practically set a clock to him. So where was he now? Was he skipping out on her? Did he just want to meet her in one of their beds and never do anything else?

She hoped not. She loved him and she didn't know how she would handle it if all he wanted from her was for her to get naked and spread her legs for him whenever he wanted. She wanted so much from him.

Just as she walked back into the living room to distribute the water glass to Ginny, there was another knock on the door and Hermione instantly smiled. Without making sure that Ginny even had a firm grasp on the glass in her hand, Hermione was rushing to the door, smoothing her dress down and taking a few deep breaths. This time, it was him. She could feel it.

She swung the door open, still smiling, and this time, she saw no one but Marcus standing there. Relieved, she exhaled a lungful of air she hadn't even realized that she had been holding. "I don't have any shoes on," she said suddenly for no apparent reason.

A rare grin – the Flint grin as Hermione liked to refer to it as – spread across his lips and he stepped forward, sliding his hands on her cheeks. "Good to know," he teased before kissing her, his lips meeting hers in a soft, gentle greeting that had her nearly swooning as a result. "Sorry I'm late. I couldn't find my tie."

Hermione smiled, shaking her head and leaning forward to kiss him again. He was wearing black pants with a white button-down dress shirt and a black tie and looked exceptionally handsome. He had been wearing nearly the same thing at Harry's wedding when she had noticed him for the first time. It seemed so long ago now. He had even shaved for their date and she wasn't used to the smoothness of his cheeks as they rubbed against her hands and face.

Marcus leaned in for another kiss, his hands on her hips, pulling her towards him and her arms naturally and instantly wound around his neck. She pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him more fully on the lips, moaning softly, pressing more against him as one of his hands dropped down to grasp her bum. She ran her fingers through his already disheveled hair and she entertained the notion of perhaps buying him a comb as a joke for Christmas.

"I never would have thought that you two would be as cute together as you actually are," Ginny's voice suddenly broke through and Hermione had actually forgotten that Ginny was there in her flat.

Marcus had that effect on her.

The instant he knew that he wasn't alone with her, Marcus stepped away from her, his arms hanging at his sides and Hermione frowned. Even in front of one of their close friends, he couldn't stand the thought of showing her affection.

Ginny looked at what Hermione was wearing and then at Marcus. "Are you taking her out on a date tonight? Where are you taking her?"

"The Mango Tree," Marcus answered, his hands shoved in his pockets now.

"And you didn't bring her flowers or anything?" She pressed.

"Ginny, please," Hermione said, trying to smile though she could feel Marcus' uneasiness with the situation he now found himself in with Ginny's interrogation.

"You deserve to have a nice date, Hermione," Ginny informed her matter-of-factly and then looked at Marcus. "Remember that." She sighed. "I'm sorry. It's the hormones. I need to get home. Draco is in Athens for the weekend for business but I need to owl him and let him know that I finally told mum and dad."

"I'll come by tomorrow, Gin," Hermione promised, hugging her friend, and Ginny nodded, glancing once more at Marcus before apparating, leaving the couple finally alone in Hermione's flat. Hermione sighed softly with relief and then turned towards Marcus, smiling hesitantly. "The Mango Tree? Really? That is such a nice restaurant and it must have been impossible to get a reservation-"

"She may like me as a friend just fine but as the bloke dating you, she doesn't trust me with you," Marcus said, his jaw clenched so tightly, Hermione could see the muscles in his face begin to twitch. "Everyone is so damn protective of you."

"I don't care what they think, Marcus," Hermione said, going to him, her arms slipping around his waist. His hands remained in his pockets and he wouldn't look at her. She kissed his chin softly. "And why should they protective? You're perfect."

Marcus stepped away from her at her words and turned his back on her, looking out the window in her living room. It was a cold night out with a full moon suspended weightlessly in the sky, shining down brightly over the city. Hermione's flat was in Diagon Alley but he could see the skyscrapers of London in the distance through her front window.

He hated when Hermione said things like that. If only she knew that he had gotten into yet another argument with his father earlier that day about money and finding a suitable wife. Apparently, Michael had found the perfect candidate. Veruca Crow – a girl from a respectable pureblood family that the Flints had known for years. Marcus couldn't stand her but what did that matter? She was the right kind of girl in everything that mattered and Michael was determined to make the match.

Hermione wouldn't think that he was so bleeding perfect if she knew the truth about him. A knot around his neck began to form – a noose – slowly growing tighter around him. Guilt.

He had to sit her down and explain the situation to her. Maybe she would understand. Maybe she wouldn't mind dating but it never being anything more. Maybe she didn't even want to get married. If she did, why on earth would she ever even _think_ about marrying him? He doubted she wanted to marry him. Hell, Marcus didn't want to get married. He just had to and to a girl of pure blood. This thing with Hermione… it was just a bit of fun. Wasn't it? No, it wasn't and he knew that. That was why he had to tell her that this between them could never be more than it was.

Did Ginny see that? Could she see through him and know that Marcus had no intention of giving Hermione the love that she wanted and more than deserved?

He was a Flint for god's sake and Flints did not fall in love. What did everyone expect from him? To carry Hermione off into the sunset and live happily ever after? He cared for her deeply, craved her, always wanted her. And frightfully enough, he needed her. But love? He couldn't. It would just complicate things further.

He nearly snorted. Like things weren't complicated already.

Hermione came up behind him and slid her arms around him from behind, sighing softly, pressing herself against his back and holding onto him. She could feel the tension in his muscles and she squeezed just a bit tighter.

"I love you, Marcus," she whispered then pressed her lips between his shoulder blades, inhaling his cologne and the distinct scent that was very much him.

If possible, he tensed even more at her words.

"What?" He croaked, stepping away from her again, turning so he could look at her.

Her cheeks flushed but she kept her head high and stared him straight in the eye so there would be room for misinterpretation. "I love you, Marcus."

Her voice was steady and firm and by the way he was staring at her, she knew that he did not doubt her. She knew he wouldn't stay it back but she grew nervous at the thought of what he _would_ say in response. If he said anything.

"You don't love me, Hermione," Marcus said, shaking his head. "You only think you do because I was your first."

Hermione frowned. "No," she said slowly as if it would help him understand. "I. Love. You. Not because you were my first. I would feel this way even if we hadn't slept together yet."

He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand through his hair roughly. He felt sick. God, why did she have to go and say something like that for. He really felt as if he was about to throw up. He stared at her, hard and silent. She had gotten dressed up for their date and she looked absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. She always did though. Hermione Granger was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and he knew he wasn't worthy of her.

The night before, she had spent the night at his flat again and he had watched her as she slept, her body curled with his, her naked flesh pressed to his and buried beneath the sheets of his bed. He watched her and could honestly imagine being with her. Forever. He could imagine her being the woman he spent his life with.

He couldn't do this to her. Looking at her now, seeing the hurt and pain in her eyes, he knew that he had to stop it all. Fuck, he shouldn't have even let it come this far. Instead, he had to go blow it and screw it in classic Marcus Flint fashion. He was an arse. There was absolutely no excuse for what he did to her and for what he was about to do.

He had called the restaurant and said that he would pay double if they could give him a table for two that evening. It was one of the most expensive and well-known Thai restaurants in London and he had wanted the evening to go perfect for her. But why? Why was he putting forth such an effort? What was he trying to prove? That he was such a good guy? That was a lie and she would know soon enough.

He took a deep breath. "I'm getting married."

If someone had punched her in the stomach, Hermione wouldn't have been more surprised and shocked than she was right then. The force of his words actually had her take a step back. "What?" She finally managed to choke out.

She couldn't breathe.

"I have a trust fund and I can't get that money until I get married," he said, removing himself from the conversation. "But I have to marry a pureblood girl. Not a girl like you."

His entire face was blank. He would not allow himself to get personal. He couldn't afford to. He needed to do this. The instant she said that she loved him, he knew that he had to cut her free. He couldn't keep it from her any further. She needed to go out and find a right bloke.

"This… between us, it was just a bit of fun for me before I went and married some girl," he lied, the bile rising in his throat. "It was great but-"

The cracking sound of Hermione's palm connecting with the side of his face startled the both of them. She was shaking with both anger and an unfathomable pain she had never experienced before. Tears streamed down her cheeks but her eyes were flashing with fury. She couldn't breathe and her stomach dropped to her feet. Her heart… it was breaking. She could actually feel it shatter within her chest.

"Get out."

Marcus stared at her. He didn't even feel his cheek stinging from the slap. He was completely numb. He took a step towards her which she instantly countered with one of her own, backing away from him.

"Get out, Marcus!" She shouted at him.

She was about to collapse. She didn't even know how she was still looking at him. She didn't know the man standing before her. This wasn't Marcus – not her Marcus. Marcus was sweet and kind and gentle and he cared for her. He did. Or she had thought he did. No one could do this to someone they cared about.

She had been so very wrong about him.

Marcus stared at her for another moment and then nodded his head. "Hermione…" he began to say but what was there that he could possibly say? He told her everything. There was nothing more.

She turned her back on him, not having the strength to watch him leave, and only after she heard the _pop_ of him apparating from her flat did she allow herself to collapse, falling onto her knees in the middle of her living room, unable to keep from crying her eyes out as her heart laid in pieces on the floor.

* * *

**A/N: It's okay to review. Really. I love reviews. They motivate me and I want to know what people think of this chapter. Thank you. **


	13. The Heartache

Chapter Thirteen – The Heartache

**I**t was a strange feeling – having one's heart broken. Hermione had never experienced pain like this and would not wish it on anyone, not even her enemies.

She had spent the entire weekend in bed, still wearing the black dress that she had planned on wearing for her date with Marcus, not having the energy to take it off. She curled herself into a ball and cried until her eyes hurt and her throat burned. She couldn't seem to stop though. Even when there were no more tears, she still remained in bed, staring out the window, not seeing anything but rather staring blankly ahead while her eyes took the time to recover so she could cry again.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how she should feel. Her chest ached, feeling hollow, feeling as if someone was continuously pressing force down upon it, but she still loved him. She could feel it. It wasn't as if her feelings for him were like a light switch, able to flip on and off whenever it fancied her. No. Her love for him had been real and despite everything, she could still feel it within her body. The rational part of her mind tried to force herself into hating him but she couldn't. She still loved the bloody git and it only made her hate herself for it.

Money.

That was what it came down to. He didn't care for her. He didn't like her. And he certainly didn't love her. The idea of Marcus Flint loving her was such now a ludicrous one, Hermione couldn't believe that she had actually planned on talking to him about their feelings for one another during their date that Friday night.

Marcus Flint was not capable of loving someone other than himself. He was a horrible person. He _knew_ the entire time he was with her that he wasn't going to have anything with her except a few tumbles between the sheets. And the fact that she had told him that she loved him _and_ had slept with him numerous times, it made her absolutely sick to her stomach.

How could someone do this to another person? How could he look her straight in the eyes as if the past few months between them had never happened and tell her such cruel and cold things minus of all feeling and emotion?

She was angry at herself for allowing herself to get caught up in some fantasy that obviously didn't mean a thing to him.

The other night, he had spent the night at their flat – since it was a habit now for them to sleep at either his or hers – and for once, he had fallen asleep before her. Hermione had taken advantage of it and had watched him for a bit, laying on her side next to him, her arm bent at the elbow, her head propped up in her hand. She didn't dare touch him. That would wake him up for sure and she wanted to truly look at him without him stopping her by turning away or distracting her with his kisses. For some reason, Marcus had never liked it when she stared at him for long periods of time though he always did it to her.

Perhaps he was worried that if she stared at him long enough, she would see within him and find the truth.

But that night, she hadn't sensed anything wrong and she had watched him with a faint smile on her face, her fingers itching to touch him but restraining herself.

Hermione allowed herself to think things that now, a few days later, curled on her bed and crying her eyes, she realized how stupid it had all been. How much of a lie it had all been. She had actually imagined what it would be like if they were officially together – like a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship – or how it would be if they someday actually got married. His flat was larger than hers. Maybe she would move in and they would live there together or maybe they would find a brand new place for their new life together.

_I have to marry a pureblood girl. Not a girl like you._

His words echoed over and over in her head. Taunting her. Torturing her. _Not a girl like you_. He didn't have to say it but she had known exactly what he was getting at. The Flints were a pureblood family and to most of the old families like them, that was all they cared about. A girl like her would never be accepted or allowed. According to them, she was a mudblood and a fresh batch of salty tears flooded her eyes when she thought of Marcus thinking of her as such.

It was Sunday afternoon and she knew that she had to pull herself together enough to get her over to her parents' house for their weekly family supper or else her mother would come over and Hermione didn't want her to see her in such a state. Hermione thought of how she had happily talked to Jane about Marcus, promising that she would convince him to come over to dinner one of these weeks. That would never happen now. Her parents would never meet Marcus or any man for that matter. Being with someone else after this happening to her, Hermione didn't know if that was possible. Being alone guaranteed a heart safe from breaking.

Hermione stumbled from bed into her bathroom, flipping on the lights. She stared at her reflection, not at all surprised to see herself in such a state. She had been lying in bed for two days. She wasn't going to look as if she was ready to walk down a modeling runway anytime soon.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached behind her and pulled the zipper of her dress down, brushing it from her body, the garment slipping off and pooling on the floor at her feet. She couldn't help it when her eyes saw the green lingerie she was still wearing and her chest twisted in a painful ache again. She had bought this for him. She had been so excited when she had bought the set, eager to see his reaction when he undressed her after their date and saw the green bra and knickers.

She couldn't get it off of her fast enough, stripping herself of it all, and then, on pure impulse, dumped it into the wastebasket next to the sink. She would never wear something like that again and she certainly wouldn't keep it. It only reminded her of him and she refused to allow her mind to keep memories of him – a tough task since he was the _only_ thing on her mind at the moment.

The water streaming from the shower head was scorching hot, the steam swirling around her as she stood under the torrents, soaking herself, trying to drown herself.

_I want to know every inch of you_.

Words he had said to her echoed in her ears – words that had made her blush and smile and feel like she was truly someone special and important to him. She could still feel his hands and lips on her body, touching her, tasting her, feeling her. Even when he was inside of her, it sometimes felt that they couldn't get close enough. Could never get close enough.

Hermione now knew why. There had always been a wall between them. Even in their most intimate of times together, he had kept himself from her, refusing to let her in.

Why her? Why had he done this to her? If all he had wanted was a bit of fun then why did he choose her? He knew she was a virgin and he had acted like such a gentleman, hesitant about taking it from her. Always asking if she was alright and if she was sure. He was such an actor, she felt as if she should applaud his performance. He hadn't cared for her at all. He had known about the money and how starting something with her wouldn't lead anywhere. And yet, he had allowed her to fall in love with him.

Hermione couldn't believe that she had fallen in love with such a heartless man.

And she couldn't believe how stupid she had been. Telling Ron and Luna that Marcus would never hurt her. Allowing herself to live in such a dreamland when she was usually so smart and aware of everything happening around her. She had been so blind when it came to Marcus Flint, that it was almost somewhat embarrassing.

Drying her hair and pulling it back in a ponytail, she then tugged on a pair of blue jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. She felt cleaner, more refreshed, but as for feeling even remotely better, she knew that that was far off from happening.

She wished that she didn't have to face her parents, or anyone for that matter. She wasn't ready for the human race yet and she was seriously contemplating calling in sick tomorrow so she wouldn't have to go to work. Wouldn't have to sit in her office at noon, imagining the countless lunches they had shared together.

_"You're beautiful," Marcus said, propping himself up against the pillows on her bed, watching her as she reentered the bedroom, holding two glasses of water, wearing nothing but his tee-shirt._

_Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "I somehow doubt I look beautiful right now," she argued, crawling back onto the bed, handing him one glass while taking a sip from her own._

_He stared at her and then leaning forward, pressed his lips to the side of her throat. "You look like someone has just thoroughly loved you for a few hours. You're glowing."_

_"I'm glowing?" She echoed, turning her head to look at the mirror hanging on the wall above her dresser._

_"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered before cupping her cheek with his free hand and pulling her lips to his in a soft, yet deep kiss._

More hot tears streamed down her cheeks before she could stop herself from crying again and she grabbed another tissue from the box on the nightstand next to her bed. Everywhere she looked in her flat, she was having rushes of images of him being there, spending nights there, sharing conversations with her, whispering things to her that made her blush deeply even in the darkness of the bedroom.

It would be so much easier for her if she could hate him. She wanted to hate him. She wished she could hate him. But unfortunately for her and her heart, she didn't. Or couldn't. She wasn't sure which it was.

The instant she walked through her parents' front door, she was attacked with the scents floating from the kitchen and her stomach seized in her body, tightening into a knot. Shepherd's Pie. She almost laughed at the cruel irony. Of course. Why wouldn't her mother be making Shepherd's Pie that evening for supper?

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the night ahead, before heading into the living room where her father, Ned, was sitting in his usual armchair, reading that day's newspaper, a football game between two teams from Spain and Germany on the television, the volume low.

"Hi, dad," Hermione greeted softly, bending down and kissing him on the cheek, before sitting down on the couch next to him.

Crookshanks hopped up next to her and Hermione smiled faintly – her first smile since Friday – and scratched her loyal cat's head. After graduating from Hogwarts and having secured her position at the ministry, Hermione thought that perhaps her cat would be more content living a lazy life with her parents at their house in the country rather than being cooped up in a small flat while Hermione worked long hours. Crookshanks didn't seem to mind. There were plenty of mice outside to chase about.

"Hello, dear," Ned smiled at her, folding his paper back up and looking at his only child. "How was your weekend?"

Hermione shrugged. "I caught up on some sleep and read," she lied, surprised at how easily it came to her.

She couldn't tell her father about Marcus no matter how apparent the pain from him was probably on her face. She had grown up as a daddy's girl and Ned was extremely protective of her. If he found out that any member of the male species had hurt her in any way, shape or form, he would march off and defend her in an instant. Hermione could just imagine Ned confronting Marcus at his flat and the picture in her head was not a pretty one. Marcus would probably laugh and ask why he should care whether or not Hermione was broken. She was nothing to him.

"Mione, dear, you're here," Jane said with a smile, coming into the living room from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "No Marcus this Sunday? Your father and I are looking forward to meeting him."

Hermione stilled at the mention of his name falling from her mother's lips but before Jane could see the tears in her eyes, Hermione stood up and hugged her, her arms tight around her, clinging to her. Jane glanced worriedly at Ned but he didn't seem to pick up on his daughter's mood. Jane held her, hugging her, rubbing her hands on her back. And then, Hermione took a shaky breath and before she could stop herself, silent tears rolled from her eyes.

Now Jane was very worried. Hermione hardly cried over anything and it didn't take a mother's intuition to realize that perhaps, Marcus had something to do with it.

"Come on, dear," Jane said, still rubbing Hermione's back as they hugged one another. "I want to show you the new rocking chair I got for the study upstairs."

Hermione understood her mother's hidden meaning and followed her up the stairs without argument or protest. Once the door of her parents' study was closed securely behind them, Hermione all but collapsed, crying harder and hugging her mother again as Jane held her, guiding her gently over to the couch in the corner underneath the room's large window that overlooked the Granger's backyard.

"Mione, please," Jane said softly, her own eyes stinging with tears at the sounds of her daughter's anguished cries. "Please tell me what happened."

Hermione didn't want to talk about it. She had done nothing for the past two days but think about it and analyze every minute detail. But the instant she opened her mouth to say she didn't want to speak of what happened, everything began pouring from her mouth and she couldn't stop herself. It took some time, words being broken with tears and hiccups but Jane heard the entire tale of Marcus and Hermione.

"I feel like I'm dying," Hermione gasped, a hand going to her chest as Jane wiped at her soaked cheeks, biting her lower lip. "When will this stop? When will it go away?"

Jane shook her head slightly. "However long it takes for your heart to heal."

"And what if it never heals?" Hermione continued to press. "Because right now, it feels like nothing will never be fine again."

"You'd be surprised at how much the heart is able to handle," Jane said softly, brushing back locks of hair that had fallen loose from Hermione's ponytail. "I know it may seem impossible right now but… things will get better. You will get better. It just takes time."

Hermione closed her eyes, covering them with her hands. "I love him. Even after… I still love him." She shook her head slightly. "I…" A shaky breath. "I actually had the stupidity to think that we might get married someday."

"It is not stupid to imagine yourself marrying the man you love," Jane protested.

Hermione looked at her, her brown eyes now bloodshot and so heavy with sadness, Jane felt it press into her own chest. Her little girl was broken and she didn't know what she could do to help her.

"I never had him," Hermione whispered. "No matter what I thought, no matter what I shared with him… it wasn't anything. It was just… it was just a dream."

* * *

"**I **see you have a matching one though I doubt yours was a 'welcome to the family' punch like mine was," Draco Malfoy said, letting himself into the Marcus and Blaise's office and instantly taking note of the black eye Marcus was sporting, his left eye swollen shut.

Marcus didn't say anything. Didn't even grunt a reply. He simply continued reading the roll of parchment in front of him on his desk though his mind wasn't registering any of the words his eyes were seeing. Or rather, his eye was seeing since the right one was the only useful one to him at the moment. He wasn't surprised in the least when Ron Weasley had stalked into his office earlier that morning and without saying anything, simply wound his fist back and punched Marcus in the face.

"Stay away from her," was all he growled before leaving, slamming the door shut behind him.

Marcus wasn't surprised that everyone knew. Their friends weren't exactly trained in the art of keeping secrets. Hermione had probably said something to Pansy or Luna or Ginny and god forbid those girls keep anything from their significant others. It was only a matter of time before everyone else found out about what had happened between him and Hermione Friday evening. He supposed that since Ron was a trained auror, Marcus had gotten off easy with just a punch in the face.

Ron, or any of them, didn't have to worry though about Marcus going anywhere near Hermione. He couldn't. It was the only way both of them were going to get through it. Why torture both of them by being near her when he couldn't be with her? He knew Hermione hated him. He knew he had broken her heart. He didn't blame Ron for punching him, almost wanting him to do more. He deserved it; deserved to suffer for what he did to her.

Her face had been haunting him all weekend. The look in her eyes when he told her that he was getting married and that it could never be to her. She was the first person in his life, besides his mom, who had ever loved him and he had been successful in fucking it all up.

He had chosen money above that love and if he could even think about doing that to Hermione then he never deserved her in the first place.

She could do so much better than him. He had done her a favor. A life with him wouldn't be much of a life and she needed to know that. He was selfish, cold, gruff, standoffish. He never kissed her in public and the one time he had held her hand in public, he had never done it again.

She needed someone who could actually love her the way she deserved.

Adrian and Blaise had come over to his flat on Sunday, armed with fire whiskey, and had proceeded to get absolutely pissed with him. He knew his fellow Slytherin friends would understand and they had. Their families were all wealthy purebloods and marrying one of their own kind was something they had heard often from their own parents. They understood why Marcus had done what he had. They just didn't understand why he had started anything with Hermione Granger in the first place.

Marcus didn't know either. He knew that Hermione wasn't the type to just have a fling with a bloke. She still being a virgin was more than enough evidence for that. She was sweet and smart and beautiful and he had been attracted to her the instant he danced with her at Potter and Pansy's wedding. He could still envision her perfectly in the green and gold dress with her hair down and her body pressed to his. She had been the sexiest, most gorgeous woman he had ever seen and he was an idiot for not staying away from her and leaving her in peace.

He was an arsehole – plain and simple.

He had had a beautiful, smart, good woman in love with him and he had thrown it all away as if it hadn't meant anything to him when it had actually meant everything in his life.

He had lived so long under his father's thumb, listening to how nothing mattered except purebloods and money. And Marcus, growing up wanting to be nothing like his father, had morphed into Michael so quickly on Friday night as he broke Hermione's heart, he felt sick.

Yes. He deserved so much more than a punch in the face from Weasley.

"I think it's safe to say that Ron Weasley has an anger management problem," Blaise commented as he lit a cigarette. Though smoking in the Ministry was strictly prohibited, like most rules, that was one Blaise never followed.

Draco sat down in the one spare chair in the small office, his fingers touching the delicate purple and swollen flesh of his right eye, smirking. "I honestly was expecting more from him for getting Ginny pregnant before marrying her. I'm thankful that this is it."

He looked over at Marcus, who was pretending to put forth all of his attention and concentration on the daily reports he and Blaise sifted through every morning.

"Do you know who I saw while I was getting some coffee from the shop down the road?" Draco asked, still looking at Marcus. "And who asked me and Ginny to join her and her fiancée for dinner sometime this week?" He paused. "Veruca Crow."

Marcus' entire body tensed immediately and his grip on the parchment made his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenched, his teeth hurting, and he heard the blood roar in his ears. He still didn't speak though or look at his two friends who he knew were staring at him, waiting for him to do something.

"I told her that I didn't know you had proposed yet," Draco said.

"He didn't," Blaise instantly argued but then stopped, looking at Marcus. "Did you?"

"No," Marcus spat, anger coursing through him steadily like a drumbeat.

Veruca Crow: tall, blonde – the complete opposite of Hermione. What was on Veruca's surface was all there was to her. She had no depth, no hidden compartments that Marcus would take joy in discovering. She didn't read or show a general interest in anything except shopping and gossiping with her friends. She was paper-thin with absolutely no substance to her.

Marcus couldn't imagine marrying her. Couldn't imagine her body curled next to his every night for the rest of his life, his nose inhaling her scent and his fingers buried in her rich tangles of dark brown curls. Couldn't imagine her wearing his tee-shirts as she pranced around the flat as they played a playful game of tag in the middle of the night, the reward being that if he caught her, he could make love to her anywhere he wanted to.

The last time he and Hermione had played, he had taken her torturously slow on top of her desk, her bum sitting on top of papers she needed for work and him standing between her legs, his hands on her hips as he thrust steadily in and out of her soaking heat, not speeding up when she begged and pleaded, torturing her with his slow and steady movements. He could still feel her fingers digging into his back and see her head dropped backwards as she moaned softly into the night. That had been last Wednesday. Only Wednesday. Two days before he shattered her heart.

Because of his mother and the way her life ended, Marcus never had this thought but right then, sitting at his desk as he listened to Draco and Blaise talk about Veruca, and the future he, and only he was responsible for creating, Marcus wished he was dead. Death would be welcome compared to the life waiting for him now.

Without Hermione.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews of the last chapter. Please read and review this chapter. I wanted to focus on how both Hermione and Marcus feel and their inner-thoughts. I hope I did alright with that. Please review and let me know. Thank you. **


	14. The Run In

Chapter Fourteen – The Run-In

**M**arcus had no idea what she was talking about. He tried to follow her conversation but honestly, he didn't even care. It sounded like she was talking about shoes. Why the hell would she be talking about that? He could have cared less. But there she was, sitting across from him in the restaurant, talking about a pair of shoes she had found that day that went perfectly with a dress she had bought earlier that week.

If this was Hermione sitting across from him, she wouldn't be talking about shoes and even if she was, she would be doing so in such a way that Marcus couldn't help but listen and take an interest in her words.

But this was not Hermione sitting across from him.

It was Veruca – the woman he was going to marry, a thought which still made him cringe and nearly throw up in his mouth. His father was getting impatient with him, not understanding why Marcus wouldn't just go on and marry the girl. A courtship was a respectable step to take before an engagement but Michael was under the suspicion that Marcus was dragging it out longer than necessary.

And he was right. It had been nearly a month since Marcus had last been with Hermione and yet, she was all he thought about. Was all he saw. Was all he heard. He looked at Veruca and could not bring himself to ask her that question that would shape and determine the rest of his life.

_Will you marry me?_ It was too intimate a question to just ask anyone. It was meant to be asked by a person who was in love with another and who wanted to spend their entire life with that one other person.

It was a question Marcus should have been asking Hermione and he knew that.

He looked at Veruca as she went on and on about her shopping excursion that day and he knew that that was all she would be doing once they were married and she had his entire fortune at her disposal. Hermione would never be the type of woman to sit at home and do nothing all day. She would go mad. Even when she was home, supposed to be relaxing, she always had to be doing something – as if the energy within her was tearing at the seams and she had to move to keep from ripping apart.

One Saturday, Marcus had been at her flat, enjoying his day off and watching a movie being shown on her television – one of the hundred film versions of _Robin Hood_ – and Hermione had lasted only about ten minutes of lying on the couch with him before she had begun to fidget. Normally, when a girl wanted to cuddle, Marcus was the one feeling claustrophobic but lying there, on the couch, doing absolutely nothing except watching the movie, Hermione began to wiggle.

They were spooning on the couch, Marcus lying with his back pressed up against the cushions, his arms wrapped around her as Hermione laid in front of him, her back pressed to his chest. He was able to smell her hair and kiss her neck perfectly in that position but for once, he was actually watching the movie. That actor, Errol Flynn. Was his Robin Hood costume actually sequined and… _sparkling_? That seemed horribly historically inaccurate and Marcus frowned, trying to get a closer look.

Hermione was playing with his fingers and the cuff of his sweatshirt he wore and then she began twirling locks of hair around her hair. When he had laughed and asked what she was doing, she shrugged and said that she was feeling anxious. Eventually, she had convinced – though there wasn't a need for much convincing – Marcus to have a quick snog session with her on the couch before she had went to go get one of her dozens of books and curling back with him on the couch, she had read as he watched his movie.

In bed, after a few rounds of strenuous love-making when Marcus would be lying, practically immobile, Hermione would always be the first to recover, whether it be just tracing his tattoo or kissing his neck or running her fingers through his hair.

Hermione had been a passionate lover – the best he had ever had – and had been so eager and excited to try and learn new things. Marcus knew there was a reason why she had been so different when compared to all of the previous women he had shared a bed with. Hermione had loved him and it radiated forth through her actions. And Marcus… he loved her too.

He couldn't believe that he could admit that to himself now but he could. It only figured that it was too late for anything to be done about it. He was set to marry Veruca and Hermione, well, according to what he had heard Draco talking to Blaise and Adrian about when they had all gone to a Quidditch match together over the weekend, Pansy had set Hermione up on a blind date with Justin Finch-Fletchley a few days earlier and she had agreed to see him again.

She was moving on. Which was good. That was what Marcus wanted her to do. He wanted her to forget about him and the horrible things he had done. He wanted her to be happy in her life and he wanted her to be loved by some bloke who deserved her. He just couldn't help the tight ball of envy in his stomach and the strong desire to go and beat Justin Finch-Fletchley to a bleeding pulp.

He had never been in love before and he hadn't known what to expect when he finally realized his feelings for Hermione. He understood that the feelings had been there, lying dormant, ignored, within him for a while now though. He wasn't sure exactly when he had fallen in love with her but he had an idea as to when it could have been. That morning, in his bedroom after coming to him the night before, admitting her own feelings for him, she had been sitting up in his bed, wearing his tee-shirt and smiling down at him. He had felt his heart seize in his chest as he had looked up at her and he allowed himself to imagine waking up with her like that for many more mornings to come.

That was when he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger.

He was almost certain of it. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him and Marcus knew that for the rest of his life, nothing would ever come close to comparing to her. She was beautiful and sweet and funny and smart and she had loved him completely and wholly, giving herself entirely to him without fear or hesitancy. She had trusted him. She had wanted him. Him. Marcus Flint. The Slytherin oaf who had to repeat his N.E.W.T. year. Why would she have ever wanted to be with him?

It was a question that he would probably never be able to answer without still wondering why. She was too good for him. Always had been and always would be. He didn't deserve her and he knew that he never would. She had chose him though. She had given herself to him – not just in regards to her virginity but she had given him her heart, trusting him and expecting him to look after it for her. It had terrified him but at the same time, he had walked a little taller, knowing that she was his.

What kind of bloke chose money over love like that? He did, apparently. Michael Flint's junior replica.

"Oh, you will love it when you see it, Marcus!" Veruca practically squealed with delight and she reached over and took his hand in hers.

He immediately slipped it from her grasp and held onto his water glass, staring down at his dinner plate as he continued chewing on his piece of chicken. This was his life now. Eating dry chicken while listening to a woman he couldn't stand touching him as she squealed about articles of clothing.

If only his mother could see him now. She would be _so_ proud of him and how her greatest fear had come true. He had chosen the money and in turn, had become exactly like his father. If she hadn't been dead already, this surely would have killed her.

"The Masquerade tomorrow night is the perfect opportunity for making announcements, don't you think?" She asked in what she probably thought to be a sly matter.

Tomorrow night, the Ministry was hosting a Masquerade Ball for all of its employees in celebration of the approaching holiday season. Normally, Marcus would have stayed as far away as possible from something like that but he had agreed to go with Veruca for one simple reason.

Hermione would be there.

Even though they worked in the same building, he hadn't seen her once since his confession to her and successful stomping of her heart. Blaise had informed him that she had gone to Moscow for business for two weeks before returning and she had excellent skills at hiding herself from people who might want to find her. She should have become an auror. She could disappear better than anyone he knew.

He admitted that he walked past her office sometimes though it was on the opposite end of the Ministry and he never had a reason to be there. But anytime he walked by the open door, she wasn't in there but he always got the feeling that she had just left. It was as if she had sensed him coming and had dodged him. He didn't know why he wanted to torture both of them but he couldn't seem to help himself. He wanted to see her. Desperately. It had been nearly a month. He HAD to see her.

"Don't you think, Marcus?" Veruca repeated her question, staring at him. "Perhaps we should tell everyone tomorrow night that we're engaged."

"We're not," he reminded her for what felt like the millionth time.

He was half-tempted to put the bleeding ring on her finger just so she would shut the hell up about it. Michael had given him one of the Flint family heirloom rings to give Veruca but it was still tucked in his top dresser drawer, not imagining it sitting on Veruca's finger but rather Hermione's. Not that that would ever happen now.

"I know we're not," she said, a bit huffy. "Maybe we should be though. Don't you think? If we become engaged now, I will have just enough time to plan it so we can have a spring wedding. It could be so beautiful, Marcus. _If _you proposed to me. I'm also sure that your father would let us delve a little bit into your trust fund before we were married too so we could spare no expense for the ceremony."

Marcus finally lifted his head and stared at her, the light from the flame of the candle in the middle of the table flickering onto her face. Veruca Crow was beautiful. A man couldn't deny that. But… she wasn't what he loved in a woman. Her hair was thin and blonde, cut to her shoulders and always styled fashionably rather than rich dark brown hair hanging down her back in thick waves and always looking uncontrollable. Veruca didn't have hair he could bury his hands in.

Her eyes were green – like pea soup. And Marcus despised pea soup. When she looked at him, he saw no fire, no passion. Hermione's brown doe eyes had been like windows. Everything she was thinking and feeling could be conveyed in her eyes and sometimes, Marcus found himself quite satisfied with doing nothing except looking into them.

Veruca was tall, willowy, like a model's body would be. Hermione was shorter and she had had womanly curves. Veruca was skin and bones but Hermione had had hips that he loved grasping when she had been rocking on top of him during the night, making love to him. She had fit perfectly against his body and he was able to rest his chin on top of her head whenever he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her.

In simplest comparison terms, Veruca was not Hermione and Hermione was all Marcus wanted for himself.

Without excusing himself from the table, Marcus took the napkin from his lap, tossing it onto the table as he stood up. The restaurant was crowded and he weaved in and out of the other tables and waiters as they bustled back and forth from the kitchen, carrying trays of steaming plates of food.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. He had to go to the bathroom and splash some water on his face but going down the short hallway where it was located, he found the door to be locked. The restaurant had a single unisex bathroom and Marcus sighed, leaning against the wall opposite the door, waiting, his hands in his pockets.

What was he doing here? Why was he here, in one of the fanciest restaurants in Diagon Alley, with some woman he couldn't even stand to be around while Hermione was out there, somewhere, not with him? He wanted her. He wanted her to be there with him. He wanted her to be the one nagging him about an engagement and a wedding though if it was Hermione, Marcus had a feeling that she would already be sporting the diamond ring on her left third finger without having to nag him at all for it.

He had no one to blame but himself and he did with such angry regret, he felt like punching a hole in the wall right then and there, not caring that he was in public and it would probably be in tomorrow's edition of the _Prophet_. Marcus Flint punching holes in walls. But honestly, did anyone except anything different from him? Everyone thought they had him pegged the instant they met him. All brawn and no brain. Nothing more to him than muscles, glares and snarls.

Hermione, though, had taken the time to get past that and get to know him. She had wanted to know him and she had fallen in love with what she had found.

The bathroom door finally opened and Marcus pushed himself from the wall, thinking that it was about bloody time, but all thought, and body movement for that matter, flew from him as he stared at who was standing in the door jamb, she also immobile upon seeing him.

"Hermione," Marcus whispered, thinking for a moment that the wine he had drank with his dinner was now causing him to hallucinate.

But, no. She was there. Really and truly standing before him. He could feel her, could smell her. He could reach out and touch her if he found the courage to.

She stood before him in a dark blue satin dress that fit her perfectly before hitting her waist and the skirt flaring out slightly, falling to her knees. It was strapless and her pale flawless shoulders were exposed, shoulders he had kissed so many times, he had lost count. Her hair was pulled back into an intricate knot at the base of her neck and Marcus hated whenever she had worn her hair up like that but no matter what she wore or how she styled her hair, he knew without a doubt that she was the most beautiful woman in the restaurant that night.

Hermione had gone completely still, remaining in the doorframe of the bathroom, her eyes unable to tear away from him. She felt as if she had just been kicked in the stomach and she couldn't breathe. Her hand was still grasping the doorknob and she held onto it so tightly, it began to hurt her fingers. Marcus… he was standing there, right in front of her, the closet she had been to him in the month that had passed since that night in her flat. A month and she still felt her eyes sting with tears at the sight of him and her heart twist painfully in her chest.

He was wearing a black suit with a black tie and white button down shirt and she noticed immediately that his hair was combed neatly instead of its usual look of him running his fingers through it. What surprised her more than his combed hair however was the state in which he seemed to be. If she didn't know any better, she would think that the past few weeks hadn't been kind to him just like they hadn't been to her. He looked tired – exhausted – and she could swear that he had lost a bit of weight. Hermione knew that she looked horrible. She was barely eating still and except for a couple of hours each night, sleep continued to allude her.

"Marcus," she said, her voice catching in her throat, her eyes glued to him before her.

Why did she still want him? Why was this aching need for him still within her? She thought this was going to pass? When was this going to pass? She hated him. She hated him. She hated him. She had to keep repeating this to herself though within the deepest recesses of herself, she knew it wasn't true. It probably never would be.

No one would ever say such a thing about her but Hermione was so incredibly stupid. Standing before him, staring at her, she knew that she still was hopelessly in love with him but he was no longer hers to love. He never had been hers.

Each morning, she dreaded reading _The Daily Prophet_ in fear of opening to the society page and seeing the engagement announcement of Marcus Flint and Veruca Crow. She didn't know Veruca. Apparently, she had been a Slytherin in the same year as Marcus and after school, she had had a brief career as a model in Muggle New York City before returning to London.

She had heard from Draco before Ginny elbowed him to shut up that Veruca was gorgeous. It didn't surprise Hermione that Marcus would be with a beautiful woman who was a model after being with someone like her. She had been just a bit of fun and apparently, not the type of girl Marcus wanted to spend the rest of his life with married to.

"Were you waiting for the loo?" She asked. After everything, it was the only thing she could think to say.

Marcus continued staring at her, silently, not even knowing whether or not he was breathing. He stepped forward, his hands balled into fists at his sides. God, the things he wanted to do to her. His body was practically shaking with his want for her. His need. His desire. His _love_. God, how could he have been so blind and scared? She was it. Hermione was the one for him. He needed her to live. For the past month, he had felt as if he had just been going through the motions of his day, completely numb to everything around him. But now, just standing and looking at one another, she was already getting him to feel more in that moment than anyone ever had before.

Hermione gasped but she couldn't do a thing more as Marcus took another step towards her and winding his arms around her waist, he pushed her back into the brightly lit bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him with his foot. His hand went to grasp the back of her neck and she managed to take a breath before he lowered his mouth to hers, latching onto her lips, kissing her hard.

Passionately. Hungrily. Desperately.

She put her hands on his chest, trying to push him off, but he wasn't moving away from her, her mouth being caressed by his, his body hard and hot pressed to hers. Her brain told her to put a stop to this that very instant but the rest of her, the part that was winning, returned his kisses eagerly, her lips moving with his, her hands sliding around his shoulders, grasping the back of his suit jacket in her fingers.

The white tile of the bathroom wall was cold on her back as Marcus pressed her against it, his mouth unrelenting on hers, his tongue tasting and feeling every nook and crevice in her mouth. They couldn't stop. The restaurant could begin to burn down right then around them and they still wouldn't stop.

Her fingers moved to run through his hair, tousling it as it should be, and Marcus gripped her hips, bunching the material of her dress in his hands, slowly pulling it up towards her waist as he continued kissing her.

Hermione knew she had to stop this. She couldn't let this happen. He had broken her heart. He had hurt her, putting her through unimaginable pain. This couldn't happen between them – whatever was about to happen. She felt tears sting her eyes but she couldn't pull away from him or push him away from her. She wasn't strong enough.

Marcus curved his hands over the soft globes of her bottom underneath her dress and lifted her slightly off the ground for a moment allowing himself to wedge one his legs between hers.

"Marcus," Hermione gasped into his mouth as her hands clutched at his shoulders.

What was he doing to her? Why couldn't she stop this? Why did her body burn and crave for this? He had hurt her. He was getting married to a girl who wasn't her. He didn't want her. He wanted money more than he ever wanted her.

He smothered his mouth against Hermione's, burning her taste onto his tongue and into his memory. His body was on fire and only she could help him.

Slipping one hand between her legs, he traced his fingers along the front of her knickers, felt the dampness that was beginning to seep through the thin delicate fabric. Impatiently, he jerked the elastic and cotton to the side, baring her completely to him, the bathroom air cold against her heat, shocking her. Running his fingers along her outer lips, he collected the moisture that had gathered there, coating his fingers in it before delving deeper.

Whatever Hermione's earlier arguments in her mind had been, all thought completely disappeared the instant he touched her. Easing a finger deep inside her, Marcus slowly started a lazy rhythm that had her lifting her hips in an attempt to encourage him and moaning softly with each thrust. Her hands had shifted from his shoulders to the back of his neck as she encouraged him to continue kissing her, her nails biting into the sensitive skin of his scalp, messing his hair up further.

Adding a second finger, he began to pick up the pace, his thumb flitting across her clit occasionally to further the sensations. She was hot and wet around him, sucking at his fingers hungrily and reluctant to release him from her grasp. He remembered every time he was inside of her, how perfect and wonderful her tightness had felt squeezing around him. Even now, he was envisioning that it was his cock sliding in and out of her instead of his fingers.

In the back of his mind, Marcus knew that they were in a bathroom in the middle of a busy restaurant. Keeping his fingers delved deeply inside of her, he reached inside the front of his suit jacket with his other hand and pulled out his wand, administering a quick silencing spell on the small room, giving them as much privacy as he could offer that moment.

Marcus resumed his actions, thrusting his fingers deeper into Hermione's body, making a point to flick at the sensitive bundle of nerves each time, and he bent his head to kiss her once again. She climaxed only a few seconds later and his mouth released her, wanting to revel in the soft cries that escaped from her throat.

"I love you," he panted softly in her ear as if he had just been the one to orgasm.

He didn't get a chance to revel in the satisfaction of what he had just done for, and to, her though. As soon as she was able, Hermione wrenched herself from his arms and yanked down her dress, backing up until she stood at the opposite end of the bathroom, staring at him. Tears glassed over her eyes and she shook her head slightly, her body trembling, both from her climax and from the words he had just had the audacity to say to her.

"What?" She asked, her voice shaking. "How dare you say that to me."

"What?" He echoed, turning to stare at her. "I love you," he repeated to her.

She stalked up to him and slapped him across the cheek, her palm and his skin stinging from the contact. He barely flinched though and she stared at him, hard.

"You do _not_ get to say that to me," she said. She could feel her throat tightening and the first tear slowly trickled down her cheek. She swiped it away. "After everything you did to me, after the things you said… or didn't say for that matter, you think that telling me… that lie, I will forgive you?"

"It isn't a lie," he said firmly.

"And what would happen if I forgave you, Marcus?" Hermione demanded to know. "I somehow doubt that I would get any sort of happy ending with you. You tell me you love me but then walk right back out there and resume your happy life with Veruca."

"How could you for a moment think that I'm happy when it's not you I'm with?" He questioned, taking a step towards her, grabbing her arms. "How could you think that me telling you I love you is a lie when you are the one person who knows I wouldn't say it unless I meant it?"

She tried to wretch away from him but his grip on her was too tight. More tears poured from her eyes but her anger grew – anger at him, at herself, at the entire situation they were in.

"You _chose_ this, Marcus! You had me. You could have had me forever if you wanted. But you wanted the money. The high and mighty pureblood Flint couldn't bring himself to such a lowly level as being with a mudblood though."

Hermione put her hands on his chest and tried to push him away but Marcus wasn't having any of that. His fingers latched tighter around her arms, refusing to let her go.

"Go, Marcus," she said, her voice quieter, sounding completely drained. "Go and marry Veruca or some other girl so you can get your money and be happy. I just want you to be happy, Marcus."

He shook his head. "I can't be without you."

She looked up at him, her heart twisting and breaking all over again. It hurt to look at him, knowing that he would rather have money than her. Knowing that he would rather marry someone else other than her.

"You already made your choice, Marcus, and I wasn't the one who won. You can't take it back."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter for me. You have no idea how much it means to me. Please read and review this chapter for me and let me know what you think. There is only a few more to go before the story is complete and I would really appreciate feedback and opinions. It helps motivate me and the next chapter is going to be long and hard to write so I will need encouragement. Thank you very much in advance. **


	15. The Redemption

Chapter Fifteen – The Redemption

**M**arcus was surprised at how calm he felt. As he climbed the stairs to the fourth floor of his father's office building, he didn't feel any doubts or hesitation in what he was about to do. This was something he had to do. Maybe he had always known it, deep in the back recesses of his mind, and finally, after all of this time, he was doing it.

He wished Hermione could be there to watch. She probably wouldn't believe it unless she saw it with her own two eyes but Marcus already had that covered. Before going to see his father, he had gone to visit Adrian at his office at _The Daily Prophet_ and as usual, his best friend had not let him down when Marcus had asked him for a favor. The next day's issue of the paper, fresh from the printer's, was folded underneath his arm and Marcus was almost giddy with the anticipation of his father's face when he read the headline.

And giddy was something Marcus Flint simply never was.

The fourth floor was quiet. It was almost seven o'clock at night and most had left work early to get themselves ready for the Masquerade Ball at the Ministry. Marcus knew for a fact that Hermione was going to be there and he had to make sure that he arrived there in time to find her and tell her everything he needed to.

He couldn't stop thinking about the night before in that restaurant's loo, Hermione in his arms, her body trembling with her orgasm and his hand between her legs. She always looked so beautiful when she gave herself entirely to pleasure.

Of course, Hermione always looked beautiful to him. No woman had ever looked as beautiful as she did to him. She always said that he would look at her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world but to him, she actually was. He had never pretended. That was one thing he had never lied to her about.

He had also finally told her that he loved her. And he did. He had never spoken more true words. He loved her completely and wholly. Even if she never forgave him, and he honestly couldn't blame her if she didn't, he would always love her. Just her. No other woman would be able to replace her. He knew that if she turned her back on him that night, she would eventually find some other bloke to be with. Someone as wonderful and too good to be true like Hermione always found someone else. Marcus knew though that unlike her without him, he without her would be alone forever.

Marcus would never look for a woman to replace Hermione. He would either spend the rest of his life with Hermione or he would spend it alone.

He needed her. He felt as if he was barely living lately. Without her, it almost felt as if there wasn't really even a purpose to his days anymore. He would never forgive himself for what he had done to her – all of the lies and secrets and eventually, the words he _had_ finally said to her – but Hermione always was the better half of the pair. He hoped that she would forgive him.

Michael Flint was sitting at his desk, scribbling something down on a piece of parchment, surrounded by stacks of books and papers, and he didn't even lift his head from his work when Marcus entered, knocking on the door as he did so.

"Whatever it is, I don't have time," Michael said before Marcus could even open his mouth to speak. "I have to finish this and then I'm meeting your stepmother at the Ministry for the ball. Shouldn't you be with Veruca?"

Marcus was amazed at just how the mere mention of that woman's name could make the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He would be damned if he had anything to do with her ever again.

"Actually, you need to make some time because this won't take that long anyway," Marcus said and then taking the paper from under his arm, he slapped it down on the desk in front of his father.

Michael's quill slowly came to a halt as he read over the headline in bold black letters, screaming across the top of the front page. Marcus waited, still amazed by how he felt no nerves whatsoever. He was expecting the worst but he found himself to not even care one way or another as to what Michael would say or do.

Dropping the quill pen, Michael picked up the newspaper, his eyes still glued to the headline and the photograph featured underneath.

.~.

MARCUS FLINT CHOOSES LOVE OVER MONEY:

WISHES TO MARRY HERMIONE GRANGER DESPITE FAMILY ORDERS

.~.

"This is tomorrow's edition," Marcus said, shoving his hands in the front pockets of the blue jeans he wore. "I just thought you might want to get an early read though."

Michael finally lifted his head to look at him, his eyes nearly pitch black with fury. For once, Marcus was not afraid though. This man, his father, they were just strangers to one another, bound together through the years merely because they shared the same name. Michael had never loved him and the hate Marcus held towards him had been simmering for years, always threatening to boil to the surface.

"You better think good and hard about what you're doing, boy," Michael said, slowly standing up, his fist crumbling around the paper.

Standing across from him, the desk the only obstacle in their way, Marcus didn't even flinch as he felt the anger rolling off of Michael's body. Instead, he only shrugged casually and shook his head.

"I don't really see what I need to be thinking about," Marcus replied. "I love Hermione and I'm going to be with her. I almost lost her because of all of this shite you've been feeding to me for years and I'm just sick of it."

Michael sneered. "So you're giving everything up – your family, money… for nothing more than some dirty little mudblood?"

"Father or not, I will knock you on your arse if you call her that again," Marcus threatened yet his voice remained perfectly calm and even. "You took mom and you nagged her and belittled her and rubbed her down until she was nothing more than a little nub and couldn't take it anymore. You're not going to do the same thing to me. I won't let you."

"Your mother was weak. Just like you are," Michael said. "You're a lost cause."

"Because I want to be happy?" Marcus smirked, shaking his head again. "Keep your money. Your pureblood. Your so-called family. I want nothing to do with any of it. I would rather kill myself like mom did than have anything further to do with you."

There was nothing more to say. He could hit him but that would prove nothing more than his words had already said. Marcus was done with him. He should have been long ago. His father wasn't even that. He was merely a sperm donor, a man who "put up" with him merely because they were related through blood. Michael meant absolutely nothing to him anymore. He had spent wasted years trying to please him, to make him proud of him but it had all been in vain. Michael had never wanted him and looking at him now, Marcus had no idea why doing whatever he wanted had always been so important. He didn't care what the man thought anymore.

It took him less than five minutes to tell his father exactly what he thought and to cut himself out entirely from the Flint fortune but as Marcus turned and left the office, heading for the stairs again, he felt as if he was able to breathe freely. There had always been this weight pressing down on his chest, slowly crushing him to death, but now, it was gone. Just like that, it had entirely disappeared.

He had never felt this sense of freedom before – not even when he had been with Hermione. When he had been with her, he was always keeping something from her and the guilt he felt always threatened to swallow him whole but now, it was different. _He _was different. He could feel the immediate change.

He was free.

Now that that was taken care of, there was only one more thing to see to and it was the biggest thing he had ever had to do. More difficult than any battle in the war. More difficult than dealing with people and their whispering and rumors after his mother's death and his failed N.E.W.T. results became known. All of that had been a cakewalk compared to what he had to do now.

He had not been scared going into his confrontation with his father but as he left the office building, stepping out into the frigidly cold night, his heart hammered in his chest at just the mere thought of approaching Hermione. A woman scorned could be a very dangerous thing and he knew that he had hurt her horribly with his actions.

He just hoped, prayed, that it wasn't too late.

It was a quiet night and a light snow was flurrying down from the black ink sky. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb once he arrived at the Masquerade since he wasn't dressed in a costume. When he saw Hermione and told her everything that he had to say, he didn't want to be hiding behind a costume. He wanted her to see him.

He was wearing blue jeans, a black tee-shirt and a black leather jacket. The snow crunched under the boots he wore and stuck to his hair – unkempt and tousled as it usually was. He knew Hermione liked his hair like that. The night before, in the bathroom, one of the first things she had done as they kissed one another was run her fingers through it, messing it up again.

He remembered everything. Every single little detail about Hermione, he remembered. Once he learned it about her, he filed it away and kept it, reliving each thing whenever he felt like it.

She loved tunneling her fingers through his hair. Whether laying on the couch or in bed, talking or just tangled together, she would run her fingers over his scalp and it always succeeded in relaxing him completely and nearly lulling him to sleep. She loved his tattoo, always tracing it with her fingertip or tongue, something that always made him hard when she did that. He actually was considering getting another one just to see what her reaction to that would be.

She had loved whenever they made love somewhere new. Whether it be on the kitchen table or just on the floor of the bedroom, she had always been so eager and happy. He had loved how she looked in that first second when he thrust inside of her and her tight warm body accepted him, squeezing around him. Her eyes would flutter closed for just a moment before she would look up at him and the purest, most serene smile would form on her lips.

Hermione had always looked so happy no matter what they were doing. Even if they were just sitting in her living room, her reading and him watching the television set, she had been happy. And it had taken him a long time but he finally realized that she had been happy because she had been with him. It had even taken him longer to realize also that anytime he was with her, those were the only times in life when he had been honestly and truly happy as well.

Marcus had fallen so in love with her, he couldn't even picture a life without her anymore. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He had never wanted to get married, thinking it was just something he had to do, but with Hermione, he wanted to more than anything. He wanted to be with her for always. He wanted to wake up with her and he wanted to go to sleep with his arms wrapped around her body and his nose buried in her hair like he always had before.

Hell. He even wanted to have kids with her and if there was one good thing his father had done for him, it was showing him how not to raise children.

Marcus wanted it all and he wanted it with no one but her.

Before that could happen though, he had to go to the Masquerade Ball and get her back and even though he didn't deserve it, he hoped she would give him a second chance.

* * *

**T**he ballroom in the Ministry had been decorated with no expense spared for that night's festivities. Christmas trees, each beautifully decorated, lined the walls and hundreds of candles floated in the air, providing more than enough bright light. There had also been a spell cast to the ceiling, making it look as if snowflakes were falling not just outside, but inside as well.

Hermione sat at the table she and her friends had staked claim to at the beginning of the evening, sipping on a flute of champagne that her date, Justin Finch-Fletchley, had fetched for her. She had actually left work earlier that day and Luna had come over to help her get ready. Hermione hadn't even wanted to attend that evening but her friends refused to let her just sit at home in her flat, reading romance novels and gorging herself on sweets. They said that it was time she rejoin the land of the living even if that was the last thing she wanted to do.

She wore a white gown, slightly fitting to her form, and a pair of white wings attached to her back. Luna had piled her hair back off her neck and the white half-face mask that Hermione had been wearing for most of the night was sitting on the table in front of her. Everyone she knew had told her how beautiful she looked that evening and she had smiled politely even though she hadn't truly believed them.

She didn't feel beautiful like the angel she was supposed to be. She tried to. She tried to be happy and be a good date for Justin though she kept dropping not-so-subtle hints to him that she just wanted to be friends and that she was nowhere near ready to being in another relationship so soon after… Marcus.

Her body still tingled from the night before in the bathroom with him at the restaurant. He always made her body shiver and tingle with pleasure. She knew she probably should have felt disgusted with herself but she couldn't bring herself to be. Last night had been wrong. He was practically an engaged man, set to marry a woman who wasn't her, and what had happened in the bathroom should have never had happened.

But, as usual, when it came to Marcus, she had been unable to turn away from him.

She watched as her friends danced with their significant others on the floor to the slow song the band was playing: Ron and Luna, Draco and Ginny, Harry and Pansy. Once again, she found herself as the extra wheel. She could dance with Justin, or even Blaise or Adrian if she wanted, but she didn't want to dance at all. It only gave her more memories to relive through that she would much rather forget.

"_Do you want to dance with me?" He asked her unexpectedly, pulling his hand out from his pants pocket and extending it towards her._

Hermione wondered how different everything would have been if she hadn't danced with him that evening at Harry and Pansy's wedding. What would have happened if he hadn't been the one to come and find her? Would they have somehow wound up together anyway? Would fate have made sure of it? Or would they have never crossed paths again?

She downed the rest of the champagne in one gulp, angry with herself for thinking such frivolous thoughts. Fate. She nearly snorted. As if what happened between her and Marcus had anything to do with fate. It had been nothing more than him wanting to shag some random witch before he got married and she just happened to be the lucky one chosen by him.

"Hey 'Mione," Adrian said, suddenly plopping down in the empty seat next to hers. He sounded breathless. "If I may say so, you are looking quite ravishing tonight."

She couldn't help but smile faintly. "You've said that to me actually quite a few times tonight, Ade," she reminded him.

He grinned. "Well, for looking so beautiful tonight, I have a present for you," he said, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit.

"Adrian-" Hermione began to protest but stopped when he pulled out a folded copy of _The Daily Prophet_. Her brow furrowed with confusion when he extended it to her.

"That's tomorrow's edition," he said, standing up again. "It seems that my editor is a romantic at heart and had no problem putting such a story on the front page. It's going to be quite the big story actually."

He paused and then bent down, kissing the top of her head with an innocent sweetness that many never associated with Adrian Pucey before squeezing her shoulder with his hand and walking away once again, disappearing in the crowd.

Hermione hardly noticed however as she unfolded the paper, gasping upon seeing the big bold headline and the picture underneath. It was a picture of Hermione and Marcus that she had never seen before but the instant she saw it, she remembered when it had been taken.

It wasn't a magical photo for it did not move. It had been taken one night at her flat by Marcus who had found an old Polaroid camera of hers and had begun playing around with it. The picture was of the both of them, standing in her bathroom in front of the mirror. Hermione stood in front of Marcus, laughing, his one arm wrapped around her, pressing her back to his chest and he held the camera out, taking the picture through the mirror's reflection.

They looked good together. They looked happy. They looked… in love. Not even Marcus had been able to hide it from the camera.

Hermione felt her fingers begin to tremble, shaking the paper, and her eyes welled with tears as she stared at the photograph and then read the headline over and over again.

He wasn't hiding anymore. He was announcing it to the world. He wasn't going to deny his feelings for her anymore. He was letting everyone, including her, know that she had won him. He was all hers if she wanted him.

If she wanted him.

She didn't know if she did.

The hurt was still there, the pain and suffering he had put her through. But then, she stared down at the paper in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she almost found herself smiling at what she read and saw. To go from not even wanting to touch her in public to this... It meant something. Only she would know just how much it took for him to do something so open like this.

Her legs shook beneath her as she stood up. She had to go. She had to find him. She had to talk to him and ask him what all of this meant. The instant she turned in the direction of the main doors and lifted her head, she saw Marcus enter the room, his eyes scanning the crowded room and she knew that he was looking for her. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest and she felt as if she couldn't even breathe anymore.

She saw Adrian bee-line his way over to Marcus and the two exchanged a few quick sentences, which apparently gave him her whereabouts for Marcus immediately turned his head and stared directly at her, finding her without difficulty. He stood for a moment and Hermione wasn't able to move either as their eyes locked together. She saw Veruca sidle up to him, slipping her arm through his and Hermione went completely stiff but then immediately breathed again when Marcus, his eyes never leaving hers, detached himself from her, pushing her away before he started making his way over to where Hermione stood.

Her feet were glued to the floor and her hands were still shaking. She couldn't believe this. This was something straight out of the romantic novels she read. He had come to her. He had announced his feelings for her to all the wizarding world and now, he was coming to redeem himself for her.

She didn't see anyone or hear anything around her except Marcus and the pounding of her own heart in her ears. Even in his jeans and black leather jacket, he was the most handsome man in the room that night. And the way he was staring at her and what she was wearing, she knew that he thought the same thing about her.

Marcus stopped in front of her, so close that they could touch one another but neither made a move to do so. Instead, they continued staring at one another.

"You came," she whispered, her voice tight.

He nodded. "I came." He slowly lifted a hand to her cheek, his thumb swiping at some of the tears that slowly streamed down from her eyes. "I lost you but…" He stopped himself for a moment and then the words he had said to her in the hallway of the Burrow on Harry and Pansy's wedding day came back to him. "I was a chaser in Quidditch but I can seek something out if I have to."

* * *

**A/N: I am so sorry for the short hiatus this story was on but I promise that my focus is back. After this chapter, only two more before the story is finished to go so please review for me and let me know what you thought of this newest addition. I love Hermione and Marcus. I really do. They are so different and yet, perfect together. What do you think? Please read and review and let me know. Also, can anyone make me a piece of art for this story? Unfortunately, I have no artistic talent whatsoever but I would really love some art to go with this story. Please let me know. Thank you very much in advance for reading and reviewing. **


	16. The Love

Chapter Sixteen – The Love

**H**ermione felt him directly behind her as she tried unlocking her front door, her hand shaking so badly, she could hardly get the key into the lock. She tried to take a few calming breaths without making it be obvious to him what she was doing but that didn't seem to help. Her heart felt as if it was lodged in her throat, fluttering there, and her stomach was clenched tightly like a fist. She didn't know what to think. She didn't know what would happen once they entered her flat but she was scared, nervous and excited all at the same time to find out.

She finally was able to unlock the door and stepped inside, immediately reaching over and flipping on the small lamp on the table in the hallway. A soft glow filled the alcove and Marcus stepped in behind her, closing the door once again after him. Without her having to ask him, he began to help her take the wings she still wore from off her back and she looked back at him from over her shoulder, finding his eyes staring at her intently. His fingers brushed across her back, left bare from the deep V cut of the dress and she felt herself shivering from his touch.

"Do you want something to drink?" She asked him softly, slowly turning around to face him.

Marcus stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. Bathed in the soft glow of the lamp, she looked beautiful, ethereal in a way, and he could not look away from her. How had he ever been able to walk away from her in the first place? He couldn't believe that he would be stupid enough to choose anything over her. He just hoped that it wasn't too late. Everything was up to Hermione now. He could talk until he was blue in the face but if she still rejected him, there wasn't anything he could do about it.

Hermione moved past him, carefully resting her wings in one of the armchairs then sitting down on one end of the couch, careful not to wrinkle her dress. Marcus paused for a moment and then followed, leaving his jacket and shoes on. Just in case. It didn't escape him that he was dressed in black and she in white. She was pure, good and sweet and he was the darkness in her life who had hurt her and had crawled back for a second chance.

"You look beautiful tonight, Hermione," he said, staring at her, wanting so bad to reach out and touch her.

Her cheeks flushed and she glanced away from him for a moment before looking back at him, her heart pounding in her chest, steady like a drum. "Everyone was telling me that tonight but… Hearing it from you is the first time I believe it." She shook her head slightly. "I have no idea why."

He didn't know what to say to that. He kept looking at her, not able to look away. He felt like he was going to be sick. He had to say something to her. He had so much to say and yet, none of it seemed sufficient enough for her ears.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair, roughly rubbing his scalp before he stood up, feeling as if he was trying to leap from his skin. He turned and looked down at her as she looked up at him and he crouched down in front of her, finally reaching out and resting his hands on her hips. She didn't tense like he thought she would and he took that to be a very good sign.

"I can't promise you that I won't ever hurt you again. I can't promise that I won't piss you off or make you scream at me or make you cry," he said. "I'm not going to turn into some big talker and you're definitely going to be the talkative one out of us. I'm not always going to tell you what I'm thinking or feeling and if something is bothering me, I probably won't sit down and talk to you about it. People are always going to look at us and wonder why the hell _you_ are with someone like _me_. But I can promise you one thing."

Hermione felt tears glass over in her eyes and her heart fluttered up into her throat. She stared at him, a smile forming on her lips as she looked at him. "What?" She whispered, her voice hoarse.

Marcus leaned closer to her, his thumbs beginning to draw circles on her hips. "I love you," he whispered back. "I've done a lot of bad things in life, Hermione, but you… you're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't know what I'll do if I lose you again. I _can't_ lose you again. I love you too much to ever walk away again."

She stared at him. "Marcus… I want to believe you-"

"Then believe me. Please." He was not above pleading. He was not above doing anything if it meant getting her back.

"You hurt me, Marcus. So much and I… You broke my heart and were going to marry another women-"

"But I didn't," he interrupted again. "I don't think I was ever going to marry her. I could never bring myself to ask her. Every time I even thought about asking her, it made me sick because all I wanted to do was go and find you and ask you."

She didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. She loved him. She wanted to forgive him. But there was still that strand of self-doubt imbedded into her mind. She couldn't just forget what he had done to her. She heard what he was saying and she could hear the sincerity in his words but… what would keep her from breaking her heart again? He had done it so easily the last time without a second thought. He could do it again if she gave her heart over to him again.

She wanted to be with him. So much. She had missed so much but… she didn't know if she could do this again. She loved him. She had never stopped. No matter what had happened, it seemed she was completely incapable of _not_ loving Marcus Flint. He was the one for her. She knew he was. She was meant to be with him. But she was frightened by it all. He had made the announcement in the paper as to his feelings for her and if that wasn't a grand gesture, she didn't know what was and she wanted to believe him; wanted to believe in him.

She loved him and she knew that she would never love someone like him. This was what she had been waiting for. For so long, she had seen her friends fall in love and go off and live happily ever after and she wanted it for herself. She wanted it with Marcus. Only with Marcus.

Marcus watched her as she was in deep thought, thinking everything through, with a sick stomach. Waiting was the worst part. If she wanted to kick him out, he wished she would just do it already and get it over with. He couldn't stand waiting, anticipating the worst to come.

She was refusing him. Her silence spoke volumes to him and he dropped his eyes to look down at the floor. He had lost her. It was too late. She was gone. She didn't want him anymore. He didn't have her and he never would again.

Why did he mess everything up? Why had he let her go in the first place? He had had her and she had been the best thing to ever happen to him. He shouldn't have pushed her away. He should have held onto her as if his life had depended upon it.

"Hermione," he choked out, his voice a tight whisper. "I'm sorry." He lifted his head to look at her again, finding her eyes set intently on him. "I love you. I want to marry _you _and I will spend the rest of our lives making this up to you-"

Hermione grabbed him suddenly, her hands grasping the collar of his leather jacket and tugging him towards her. Her mouth found his, kissing him hard, demanding, hungry. Marcus didn't hesitate for a second. He kissed her in return, his mouth fusing to hers, his tongue pushing past her lips and tangling with hers, making her moan as it always did. He reveled in that moan. He had missed that moan.

They both managed to stand up, their bodies pressing together, their lips never separating. They couldn't stop kissing or touching even if it their lives depended on it. Marcus lifted a hand to the back of her head and tried to figure out how her hair was being held up but the style completely alluded and Hermione laughed against his mouth as she felt his fingers struggling.

Keeping her lips to his, she reached one of her own hands back and began pulling out the bobby pins that Luna had used, freeing locks of her hair, it tumbling down her back and Marcus immediately burying his hands in it, kissing her harder, deeper.

"I need you. Marcus," she gasped breathlessly, pushing his jacket from his shoulders and down his arms, dropping it onto the floor.

They couldn't make it to the bedroom. They needed one another so desperately, there couldn't be time spared to walk the few feet to the room. Instead, Marcus guided her back to the couch, laying her down and Hermione pulling him on top of her, not wanting their bodies to be separated for even a moment. She didn't want to feel air or any space between them whatsoever.

He pushed her dress up her legs towards her waist, the pads of his fingertips rough against her smooth skin and Hermione edged her hands between them, fumbling with the button and zipper of the jeans he wore and then shoving them down past his hips. Marcus lifted his head and looked down at her, wanting to remember exactly how she looked right then. Her head was resting on the arm of the couch and her hair was spread out around her. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks were flushed and her eyelids were hooded with desire. For him. She wanted him. He hadn't lost this and he was damn sure going to make the most of this.

"I didn't bring my wand," he told her, both of their chests heaving up and down as they struggled to breathe.

"Mine's in my bedroom," she said but before he could even think of getting up to go and retrieve it, she sat up, wrapping her arms around him again and pulling him down completely on top of her again. "It's okay, Marcus. We don't need it."

He was quiet for a moment and then nodded. "We are getting married. It wouldn't really matter if we got pregnant."

Hermione stared up at him, a smile spreading across her lips. Hearing such words come out of Marcus Flint's mouth gave her such a feeling of elevated happiness in her chest that she kissed him again, still smiling against his mouth. "I meant that I went to my Muggle doctor after we started having sex and I went on birth control."

Marcus looked at her, uncertain. He knew what Muggle birth control was but he didn't understand it extensively. "So… you can't get pregnant?"

"Not until we want me to," she said and he grinned just from hearing her talk about them. Their life. Babies. They were together now. No going back. No breaking away.

Marcus pushed her legs apart a bit wider to accommodate him and then entered her with one deep thrust, making Hermione cried out his name. Finally. They were finally connected. It had been so long since he had been inside of her and now that he was in, he never wanted to leave.

A groan was ripped from deep in his throat from both the feeling of her body wrapped tightly about him and from the knowledge that she was his; that no one else had ever been given the privilege that he had right now. It didn't matter what anyone thought about them being together. It didn't matter if people disapproved of her taking him back or if people thought he wasn't good enough for her. All that mattered what how Hermione and Marcus felt for one another. All that mattered was that his name was the name she was calling out and that it was his body she was clinging to.

He thrust into her over and over again, Hermione's body sliding up each time their hips connected from the force. Grabbing hold of her to keep her still as much as he could, Marcus buried his face against her throat and slipped his other hand between her legs. He had barely touched her before Hermione exploded into a climax, her body arching and straining against his, her cries echoing throughout her flat, surely alerting her neighbors to what they were doing on her couch.

Pausing for just a moment to try and keep himself from coming with her, Marcus rode her through it and picked up the pace of the thrusts as he plunged into her body time and time again, driving as deep into her as he was able. Panting beneath him, Hermione struggled to breathe, her fingers gripping the back of his tee-shirt in her fists and then pushing it up, digging into his back, feeling his muscles and sweaty skin flex under her touch.

He changed the position of his hips, making Hermione shriek at the intense sensation, her fingers digging into Marcus with more force causing him to grunt and lose his rhythm for a split second before slamming home back in her body. He continued to push her towards her second orgasm. Her body was screaming for another release, her back arched, hips rising to meet his, her fingers digging into him. She wanted it whether she knew she did or not.

He listened to her moaning, felt her body around him. He was the only one who would ever see her like this. No one else was going to have her. He wouldn't let them. He wasn't going to lose her again. She was his. Always had been and she always would be.

He kissed her again, not wanting to stop. Never wanting to stop.

She came a second time and with this orgasm, she brought Marcus with her and when they were finished, they collapsed together, both trying to catch their breath.

Her eyes drifted closed and she brought her arm up across Marcus' shoulders as her other hand gently started to scratch through his hair like she knew he loved. He was heavy on top of her, but she liked the weight of him and was content to enjoy it. She had always loved Marcus lying on top of her. It made her feel safe, protected. Loved.

His breath puffed against her skin with each exhale, his hands still clutching at her hips. Her legs unwrapped from his waist, and slowly, Hermione slid them down next to his still jean-clad ones, feeling that if she moved too quickly, the after-sex spell surrounding them would be broken and she wanted to bathe in it for a bit longer.

Marcus lifted his head to look at her, his hand brushing across her cheek, sweeping some of her hair back off her face. "I love you."

She smiled, unable to keep the tears from forming in her eyes. She closed them briefly, shaking her head slightly and when she opened them again, immediately locking with his, she couldn't help but laugh slightly. She would never tire of him saying that to her. She reveled in the words, so happy, so warm.

He smiled as he listened to her laugh and then she slipped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, hugging him tightly.

They eventually moved from the couch into her bedroom, helping one another undress until they were both naked and soon, they were kissing again, touching and feeling the other, laying down on the bed.

Kneeling between Hermione's thighs, Marcus kissed down over her stomach until he reached between her legs. Running his hand over her inner thigh, he passed his tongue over the entire length of her lips, from her entrance up to her clit, tasting her arousal mixed with his come from earlier, and not caring although he had never gone down on another girl after he had come in her. The soft cry of pleasure that Hermione let out as he took her clit between his lips and tormented it with his tongue was reason enough for him to do it. He could do this forever for her if it was at all possible.

Sliding two fingers into her tight, wet warmth, Marcus began a steady rhythm of moving in and out of her as he sucked at her. By this point, Hermione was already moaning, her body oversensitive from their earlier round. Sensing this, Marcus pulled his hand back and he sat up kneeling in front of Hermione, stroking his now once again fully hard erection.

"Come here," he beckoned softly.

Rising onto her own knees, Hermione reached for Marcus, kissing him deeply as her hand rubbed the back of his neck. His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him until she was straddling his thighs, his erection pressed against her stomach. Moving her hips forward in a rolling motion, she felt him groan into her mouth. Taking him in her hand, she led Marcus to her before sinking down on him, her body accepting his entire length.

Marcus closed his eyes and began kissing Hermione's neck and shoulder as she moved on top of him. His arms wrapped around her and one of her arms circled his neck while the other hand held onto the back of his head. Her movements were paced perfectly, not so slow as to be torturous, not so fast as to lose the intimacy of the moment. They were able to continue this for what felt like a long time, each relishing the closeness of their bodies.

When Marcus finally felt Hermione speeding up, her breathing growing erratic and her fingernails scraping over his back, he took hold of her hips and began rising hard to meet her thrusts. He watched with pleasure as she threw her head back, her eyes closed, and let out a cry as her muscles tightened around him, causing enough pressure to bring him to climax as well.

As her orgasm slowly subsided, Hermione let her body collapse towards Marcus, her head resting on his shoulder. It felt so good to be this close to him again, to have him back in her arms, to have him telling her he loved her, to feel okay never wanting to let him go.

It all just felt so good after having thought that she would never have this again with him. She had thought she would never have this with anyone if she couldn't have it with him.

Marcus froze completely when he felt moisture on the side of his neck and realized that Hermione was crying. "Hey. 'Mione, what is it?"

She shook her head, hugging him tighter. "Nothing."

"You're crying."

He tried to pull her just far away enough where he could look at her face but she was clinging to him, her body shaking slightly as the tears poured out.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, tensing at the possibility but she shook her head again. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her. "Then tell me. What did I do?"

"I love you so much, it terrifies me," Hermione said, finally lifting her head to look at him. "I don't know what I'll do if… if you decide to leave again. I never thought I would need someone so much..."

Marcus lifted his hand, cupping the back of her head, keeping their eyes locked together. "I am never leaving again. I promise you. It took me a while but I'm here. I am completely here and now that I am, I'm not going anywhere."

Hermione stared at him. For once, there wasn't a wall there. She looked into his eyes and for the first time, she was able to see all of him. He wasn't hiding from her anymore. He wasn't keeping himself from her. He was opening up entirely to her. She had thought that she would never get through to him. He had been so good at keeping himself from her that at times, Hermione had thought him to be unreachable. But he was right there, in front of her.

"Wait here. I'll be right back," he said, gently picking her up off his lap and setting her down on the bed.

Not bothering with his clothes, he left her bedroom completely naked to go to his jacket still lying on the floor in her living room and when he returned, Hermione had gotten beneath the covers, sitting back up against the headboard. She smiled as he entered the room and he smiled in return, crawling onto the bed and sitting up on his knees in front of her.

"Before I went to go see my father tonight to tell him to piss off and before I went to go see Adrian about tomorrow's paper, I had to go to Gringotts to get something my mom put in my vault when I was younger. I never thought I would need it but…" Marcus trailed off, shaking his head slightly. "Give me your hand."

Hermione sat up, holding her hand out for him and she gasped when he dropped a small velvet box into her open palm. She stared down at it, her mouth hanging open, and then she lifted her head, staring at him. She couldn't move; couldn't breathe. The box felt as if he had just propped an anvil in her hand and it was growing heavier the longer he went without explaining it.

"You can open it if you want," Marcus smirked.

"I don't think I can move," she said with a shake of her head and he laughed – an actual laugh – before opening it for her, revealing the small yet elegant diamond ring inside. She gasped again, unable to look away from it.

"It was my mom's. It had been in her family for years and she put it in my vault for safekeeping. She always told me to give it to the girl I loved," he said then smirked, shaking his head slightly. "I thought she was out of her bleedin' mind. There was no way I was ever going to fall in love with anyone. I honestly thought I was incapable of it."

He plucked the ring out and then tossed the box aside, taking hold of her left hand. He felt her trembling but looking at her, even with her mouth still hanging open in shock, he could see the beginnings of happiness in her eyes.

"But then I found you hiding in the loo from Adrian and we danced and… I couldn't stay away from you. No matter how hard I tried, and I did try, I kept coming back because you're… what we have, it's the real thing," he said, holding her left hand. "I know I've made a lot of mistakes with you and I know that I've hurt you and that you haven't completely forgiven me all just yet, and I deserve that, but I just hope that I haven't lost you for good because I don't know what I'll do if I have."

He paused, trying to keep himself calm. He was always calm and collected. Now was not the time to lose that.

"Hermione, will you marry me?"

He poised the ring at the tip of her third finger on her left hand and stared at her, waiting, his stomach twisting and churning. He felt like he was about to throw up.

She didn't answer immediately. She was completely silent, her eyes flitting back and forth between him and the ring. He didn't know why she didn't answer him. Even if it was to turn him down and tell him that tonight had been nothing more than her getting even with him, he wished she would just open her mouth and say so. He didn't know if he could take this.

He had no idea that asking the only woman he had ever loved to marry him would be so damn nerve-wracking.

She stared up at him. "You won't regret it, will you?" When he frowned and looked at her completely confused, she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "If I say yes… all of your money-"

"You think I care about the money anymore?" Marcus asked, his voice somewhat hard. "Hermione… I was a complete git. I never should have cared about something as fucking pointless and empty like that. I didn't realize that at the time but if I had you, I wouldn't need any money."

He paused, about to say something so sappy, he didn't even know if his tongue could handle it. Marcus Flint did not do sappy. He suppose he would for Hermione but she would definitely be the only person to hear such words ever leave his mouth. He would do this for her and only ever her.

"If I had you, I would have absolutely everything," he said softly, staring into her eyes, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

Those words, hearing them come from him being said with such force and conviction, that was what she had wanted to hear. She had wanted to make sure. He didn't want him to ever regret her. Him regretting choosing her would hurt just as much as him not choosing her at all.

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she smiled so happily, she was almost laughing. Marcus gave a deep sigh of relief, feeling exhausted. Hermione smiling was definitely a good sign and he allowed himself to relax a little. He still needed her to answer his question though before he could truly be at ease.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Will you?" He held the ring to her finger again. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she laughed, nodding her head quickly, eagerly. "Yes!"

Marcus had charmed the ring and the instant he slid it onto her finger, it fit her perfectly. She threw her arms around his neck and he grabbed her head, their lips meeting in a hard, nearly-bruising kiss. She was laughing, crying and kissing him all at the same time.

She wondered if she was dreaming. She had to be. Just hours ago, her heart was still mourning the loss of him, her body still aching with hurt, and now, he had told her he loved her – several times – and had asked her to marry him. All of it almost felt too good to be true.

Marcus Flint loved her.

Marcus Flint wanted to marry her.

Marcus Flint had chosen love over money. For Hermione Granger.

For some, it would be too hard to believe. No one would have ever thought of Marcus Flint and Hermione Granger not only meeting and being together but falling in love and getting married on top of it. They were nothing alike and yet, that turned out to be exactly what the other needed. Hermione couldn't picture herself with any other man except for Marcus.

She pulled her lips away from him and looked at the ring on her finger. "It's beautiful, Marcus. This is exactly the kind of ring I would imagine having."

"Good. Because I'm poor now," he smirked before pressing his lips to her temple. "Even if you hated it, I can't afford anything else right now."

Hermione looked at him, worry in her eyes, but she saw a twinkle in his that she had never seen before. And then he grinned. That Marcus Flint grin. She was absolutely in love with that grin. She was absolutely in love with him.

She lifted her hands and cupped his cheeks, the sharp hairs from going without shaving that day as always pricked her fingertips. He leaned down and rested his forehead to hers, their eyes locked together. She smiled faintly and he gave her one in return. He seemed different to her. More… free.

"Don't worry, Marcus. We can take care of each other now," she said softly, smiling. "I promise."

He smirked again. "Shouldn't I be making that promise to you?"

She shrugged with a laugh. "So promise me if you want."

Marcus didn't say anything at first. Instead, he continued to stare at her, his eyes searching hers intently, a hand lifting to brush some of her hair behind her ear. He kissed her softly, lighting on the lips, wrapping his arms around her and slowly guiding her onto her back, he laying on top of her. He kissed her again, over and over, as softly and gently as the first one.

He looked at her again, their noses brushing together, their eyes locked, their mouths sharing the same bit of air between them.

"I promise I will always love you, Hermione. Even if I don't say it, even if I don't always show it, I am always going to feel exactly this way for you that I feel right now," Marcus said quietly.

Hermione felt herself blush and she smiled. "Who knew you could speak so eloquently? Why, Marcus Flint."

He smirked, remembering their time in the Quidditch shop – the first day he had held her hand. He should have always held her hand. At least now, he had another chance to. "I know. I think I'm really growing as a person."

She laughed softly, sliding her arms around his shoulders. "Oh, Marcus. I love you."

He smiled, kissing her for a moment, allowing himself, for the first time in his life, to be completely and truly happy. He had never felt this before and even when he was denying it to himself, he knew that he had only ever felt it when he was with her. She had made everything so much better for him and he didn't know what he had done to get a second chance with her but he was not going to waste it. He was not going to screw this up again. Ever.

"I love you, too, Hermione. I love you more than anything. More than anything."

The End.

* * *

**A/N: And with that, this story is completed. I was going to write an epilogue but I didn't want to write something so sugary sweet, it was disgusting. I think this chapter covered more than enough for the story to be ended well so please read and review and let me know what you think. Thank you so, so much for reading this story. I love Marcus/Hermione and I probably will write more stories about them in the future. I hope I have turned others into fans of them as well. Thank you, thank you, thank you. **


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